What You Didn't Take
by saphirefox-irl
Summary: A dark fic about Weyoun. Irritated by the Dominion's control Dukat exerts his personal power over their representative. The events that follow lead Weyoun to revelations about both his own past and that of his species.
1. Prologue : Power

I've re-done this chapter again. (September 2013)

**Warning: **this chapter contains non-consensual male/male sex (ie rape.) Skip if you think it will upset you.

Disclaimer: I don't own star:trek or these characters (obviously) and I'm making no money from this, it's just for fun.

* * *

Weyoun had been speaking for several minutes and Dukat was for the most part tuning out the words. Instead he watched the Vorta's pale lips move. His voice - insipid, soft - was an irritant. He wanted him quiet. Now.

Almost before he knew what he was doing, Dukat had pinned the small alien against the wall of the conference room.

Violet eyes stared up at him, opened wide in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Shutting you up."

"If you kill me the Founders will simply activate my next clone," Weyoun said. "You will have achieved nothing." Despite the words there was a trace of fear in his voice. His body felt tense beneath the Cardassian's hands, like a string about to snap.

"I'm not going to kill you," Dukat replied. Smiling wickedly, he trailed a hand along the Dominion ambassador's smooth neck. Weyoun appeared profoundly uncomfortable and attempted to pull away. The thought occurred to Dukat that he had rarely - if ever - seen a Vorta engage in physical contact. Was it taboo for them? He rather hoped so; that would make this all the more enjoyable.

His fingers had found their way to Weyoun's collar. Carefully he slipped a hand beneath it, feeling the soft skin. The Vorta flinched. Dukat smiled. Then - violently - he ripped the garment open, exposing pale flesh, smooth to the touch. Lowering his head, he bit hard into a patch of skin just beneath the collarbone. Weyoun gasped. "Dukat, stop this!"

"No," he replied. There was little force behind the words, it wasn't needed. He was the one with the power here and both of them knew it.

He ran his tongue along the milky white surface, found a small nipple and bit down for a second time. Weyoun was struggling to pull away but the Cardassian easily held him in place.

"Stop this... stop immediately!" There was no hiding the panic in his voice now.

"Or what?" Dukat asked, his tone silky smooth and thick with amusement. "You'll go running to your 'gods'? Do you actually think they'd care?" He laughed. "You're nothing to them - a disposable, replaceable tool." He slid a hand down Weyoun's trousers. The Vorta tried to get away but Dukat shoved him back into a wall. His cool scaled hands slowly made their way between legs and over slender hips, pressing with enough force to bruise. Weyoun's face was turned away, his eyes shut. Small sounds of distress forced their way from his throat as he tried to block out what was happening. Suddenly Dukat forced a finger inside the smaller man.

"Why are you doing this?" Weyoun gasped, his breathing erratic.

Removing his hands from beneath the clothes Dukat struck the alien swiftly across the face, knocking him to the floor. "Shut up!" he spat harshly. Confused and frightened violet eyes looked up at him, slightly glazed, unable to clearly see the other man's face at this distance. His lower lip had split. The contrast of the crimson blood against his pale skin was beautiful.

With one hand gripping the shoulder of the clone's torn jacket, the Cardassian pulled him to his feet. Pushing him face first into a table he pulled his pants down to his knees. Hurriedly he freed his own erection from his constraining garments. Weyoun tried to get up but found himself slammed back into the hard surface. A delicate bone fractured and he cried out. Dukat pushed violently inside him, eliciting a strangled sound of pain and shock.

The Cardassian groaned in enjoyment. This felt so good. At last he'd wiped that smug smile off the little Vorta's face. He'd show him who was in control here! He slammed in further, pining Weyoun to the table with one hand. Dukat's breathing was harsh and his eyes grew unfocused with pleasure as he continued to pound into the smaller man. Finally, with a contented moan he ejaculated and pulled out. With nothing holding him in place Weyoun fell to the floor. Dukat sank into the nearest chair and watched with amusement as the clone tried to pull his torn clothes back into their proper positions. His cheeks were stained with tears and his hands were trembling. As he stood and started towards the door, the Cardassian's smile only grew.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"I have work to do," Weyoun replied, with only the slightest hint of a shake in his voice.

"It can wait." He stood and in a few short strides was next to the Vorta. "You can't go running around central command looking like that... entertaining as the thought might be. People would talk." With mock friendliness he put an arm around Weyoun - who flinched - and steered him away from the door. "You'll have to stay here until curfew starts." He pushed the smaller man into the chair he had just vacated. "Sit." Two wide lavender eyes stared up at him. Dukat had to resist the urge to throw the Vorta to the floor and fuck him again. Instead he walked to a computer terminal mounted on the wall. "Dukat to Damar."

"Damar here sir."

"Come to conference room two." He glanced at the Vorta. "I have something here you should see."

"On my way sir."

Weyoun made no further attempts to get away but pulled his legs up onto the seat as though he could hide behind them. Several minutes passed in silence. Then the doors slid open and Damar entered.

"Damar, behold our _esteemed _colleague." Dukat failed to suppress a laugh. Weyoun wished he could disappear.

Damar moved closer, stunned. There was bruising on the Vorta's face, blood on his clothes and the smell of sex in the air. It wasn't hard to guess what had happened. He looked at the Dominion Ambassador. With his chalk-white skin and tiny form – emphasized by a chair far too large for him – Weyoun looked doll like. And irresistible.

He looked to Dukat. The older officer nodded his approval, motioning him forward. The Cardassian pulled Weyoun from the seat and made him kneel on the floor. The Vorta flinched when Damar tilted his head upwards to examine his features. They were delicate, appealing. He opened the trousers of his uniform. His penis fell free, already erect and emerged from his cochlea. "Open your mouth," he instructed the small alien. Weyoun obeyed, by now too frightened and confused to do anything else. Damar thrust into the moist space. The Vorta gagged and tried to pull away but the other man held him firmly, nails digging into his ears and drawing blood. Tears streamed down his pale face. He thought he would suffocate. The organ shoved down his throat was scaled and hard and it was _too big_. It hurt. He couldn't breathe.

Damar's movements started to become more erratic until, with a final push, he came. Hot flesh smothered Weyoun's sob.

Dukat watched and found the scene before him eminently arousing. His member stirred once again and he reached inside his trousers to stroke it slowly. The Vorta was shaking – arms wrapped around his head as though he was trying to hold his mind together. Dukat smiled and standing, kicked him hard in the side, then again in the stomach. Placing a boot over one of the alien's hands he slowly applied pressure until he heard the fragile bones snap. Weyoun cried out and tried to curl into a ball on the floor. Straddling his chest Dukat stopped him. "Do you still think you're the one in control here?" he asked, looking down into frightened, almost blind eyes. The Vorta was beyond answering. Dukat laughed.


	2. Chapter 1: Breaking Point

I re-did this chapter again (january 2013)

**Warnings:** abuse, attemped suicide

* * *

Standing on the catwalk above the promenade Odo frowned. Looking down, he watched with curiosity the Vorta clone who seemed to have been following him incessantly since the station had been occupied. There was a bruise on Weyoun's head. It was right at the hairline and barely visible. But it was there. It wasn't the first time the shape shifter had seen a minor wound on the clone, yet he could see no cause for these injuries. He said nothing but a suspicion was beginning to form in his mind. Dukat approached Weyoun, said something. The Vorta tensed. Odo observed.

That night the constable stood outside Dukat's quarters, where the computer had informed him both the Cardassian and the Dominion ambassador currently were. He could hear nothing beyond the door. Melting into liquid form he slipped through the crack beneath it and into the living room. The space was empty but through an open doorway Odo could see two figures. The smaller was pushed up against a wall, one arm twisted awkwardly above his head. The larger was pressed against him, head lowered as he bit into the pale skin of the other's neck. His mouth came up stained with blood. Odo left hurriedly before he could be seen.

* * *

The second occupation of Deep Space Nine had ended and the Dominion were retreating, abandoning the station. Everywhere was chaos as Cardassians and Jemhadarr evacuated. Odo was near the docking ring when he caught sight of Weyoun. He shouted out, calling the clone over. "Founder," the Vorta greeted, bowing low. "How may I serve you?"

Odo didn't think before he answered. "Stay," he said, shocked himself as the words left his mouth. All he knew was that he couldn't allow this to continue.

"Founder?" There was something like desperation in Weyoun's voice.

"Stay on Deep Space Nine," Odo repeated. His words were more confident now. He knew he was making the right decision. Dukat would destroy the small Vorta utterly if given the chance, slowly, a piece at a time. Though Odo had rejected the Dominion he still felt a degree of responsibility towards the subservient races they had created. No matter how irritating he found Weyoun, the Constable knew he was essentially an innocent, a puppet made to fulfill the needs of the Changelings. He didn't deserve what was being done to him, what would continue to be done.

"I was created to serve." The words were shaky, spoken with forced calm.

Odo stared for a moment. "Serve me then," he finally stated, "if you have to. Just stay on the station."

"I will do as you say Founder. Thank you." His legs suddenly became unsteady as the tension he had lived with for so long was abruptly lifted. He realized he was crying with relief and started to apologize profusely. Already half regretting his decision, Odo sent the small Vorta to wait in the security office until the withdrawal was complete.

* * *

"Hello Doctor," Odo said as he stepped into the infirmary, as much to announce himself as by way of greeting.

Julian looked up from the crate of medical equipment which he was busy unloading. The room was in disarray – the medical staff having only returned to the station two hours ago. "Hello Constable!" The young doctor called out happily when he caught sight of the shape-shifter. "It's good to see you again. What can I do for you?"

Odo hesitated, uncomfortable with the situation. "I take it you've heard about our new resident on the station?" he asked finally.

"Weyoun? Of course. I can't believe you were able to get him to stay here."

He made a non-committal noise. "I'd like you to examine him."

Bashir gave the Constable a puzzled look. "Why?" he asked.

"I'd rather not say. I have reason to believe he's injured."

The doctor nodded assent, his quick mind already searching for an explanation.

* * *

The Vorta sat stiffly on the side of the bio-bed and did not make eye-contact as the young human scanned him with a tricorder. The last twelve hours he had spent in the conference room being interrogated by Captain Sisko. He had politely declined to answer any of the human's questions. The Captain had called Odo then. It had hurt to deny _him _the knowledge he desired but the Founders' orders had been explicit from the first time he visited Deep Space Nine; Odo was not to be given any information that could jeopardize the war effort.

After a while Sisko's words had become little more than background noise and, instead of listening, Weyoun had looked around the room, blurred to his weak eyes, remembering the different parts of it Dukat had raped him in.

Eventually the Captain had realized he was getting nowhere and allowed two security officers to lead the Vorta away. They'd brought him to the infirmary. He didn't want to be examined. He didn't want anyone to know what had been done to him. But Odo had requested this.

Julian set down the tricorder. He looked at the clone. "A lot of these injuries are too old to treat," he said. He was doing his best to keep his voice soft and calm despite the shock he felt. He had not expected this. The former Dominion Ambassador had clearly been abused both physically and sexually over a prolonged period of time, months more than likely. Forcing himself to concentrate on what needed to be done, rather than his own disbelief that something like this could have happened, he set the tricorder down. "I can heal the more recent wounds," he said, "but there's been internal damage. You'll need surgery to repair it." Weyoun sat silently, staring at the wall and did not respond. "Can you take your shirt off?" Julian asked. He did so robotically. Bashir winced. Though the scan had told him what to expect, seeing it with his own eyes was different. This was appalling, crossing the line from violence into torture.

Injuries to the Vorta's face, neck and hands had been healed. Everything else – everything that could be hidden beneath clothes - had simply been left. He'd been walking around with two broken ribs and it was clear there had been others previously. Bruises, small burns and shallow cuts littered his skin, so that instead of white it was a rainbow of unhealthy hues. Many of the bruises showed the clear imprint of teeth. Julian wanted to know who'd done this, who could have done this but he knew that now was not the time to ask. Besides, he already had strong suspicions regarding a certain Cardassian. The Vorta were small, possessing little by way of physical strength. It would have been an easy (if repellant) thing to take advantage of that. Pushing his thoughts and emotions to one side, the doctor set about healing the newer wounds with a dermal regenerator. The small, pale alien did not move. His expression was blank.

* * *

Weyoun stayed overnight in the infirmary before being moved to quarters. He spent the next three days alone within them. The Vorta were designed to be social creatures and the solitude was almost painful, yet he didn't want to be around others, didn't want to speak to anyone.

All the computer terminals in the rooms had been disabled, in case he was a spy he supposed. It seemed a reasonable precaution. They would have been almost impossible to use anyway, the displays too large and too far away.

The replicator still worked, though it would only produce food. He tried items at random but could taste none of them. He spent most of his time staring out the view port, watching the wormhole periodically open and close. He wondered if he would ever return to the Gamma Quadrant. He wondered whether, if he did, he would be executed. He had - he supposed - abandoned his duties, even if it'd been at Odo's request.

The sound of the door chime startled him and he froze. "May I come in?" He recognized Dr. Bashir's voice and released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

"Yes, of course," he replied. His own voice sounded strange to his ears; he hadn't said a word in days. The human entered and gave an awkward smile. "What can I do for you?" Weyoun asked, perfect diplomatic smile in place.

"I just came to check up on you," Julian said. "Run some scans I mean," he added quickly, "to make sure you're healing properly."

"Thank you doctor, you're most conscientious."

"It will only take a few moments. Would you mind taking a seat?"

He sat on one of the dining chairs, his posture just slightly tense, as Julian examined him with a medical tricorder.

"It's looking good," the young doctor said, setting down the instrument. He fell silent. Pulling up a second chair, he sat down. He felt awkward, out of his comfort zone. The station had no counselor and as a result the responsibilities tended to fall to him. He'd never been much good at things like this though. He could have ignored the situation he supposed and simply left Weyoun to his own devices but he had too much compassion to see someone suffering and not act to stop it. Even if the suffering was not of the physical sort.

"I heard you haven't been out of your quarters much," he said finally. Though the words were not phrased as a question, a response was clearly expected. The Vorta shook his head.

"Well," Bashir said, standing abruptly and forcing a smile, "Exercise is important for health. I think a walk on the promenade is in order." He held the door open.

* * *

For once Weyoun was glad of his weak eyes for they meant he couldn't see the hateful glares of the station's residents. He could however hear their whispered comments. He supposed they had good reason to detest him, he had after-all been heavily involved in the occupation of their home. That knowledge though did nothing to lessen the sting of their words. He wanted to go back to his quarters. He didn't want to face any of this.

Dr. Bashir seemed oblivious to his discomfort or, if he had noticed, was choosing not to acknowledge it. Weyoun wondered why the human did not hate him, when almost everyone else seemed to.

"Doctor!" he heard someone call out in a voice that was perhaps slightly over-cheerful. "How are you enjoying the poetry collection?"

"Mr. Garak," the young human replied, turning with a smile.

Weyoun froze. He had forgotten about the Cardassian tailor living onboard the station. For a moment it seemed difficult to breath.

Julian did not notice his reaction. "I'm afraid I'm finding them rather heavy going," he told Garak with a slight wince. "Have you met Deep Space Nine's newest resident yet?" he asked, politely indicating the Vorta.

Garak gave a well-practiced disarming smile. "I see the rumors of your presence on the station were accurate," he said to the smaller alien, holding out one of his hands in greeting. Weyoun forced himself to take the offered limb but could not suppress the shudder that ran through him at the texture of smooth scaled skin. Quickly he pulled his hand away. Garak's icy blue eyes took everything in as his quick mind analyzed each detail.

Julian frowned as he watched the interaction, a concerned look crossing his face. "Is everything alright?" he asked the Vorta.

"I'm tired," Weyoun answered quickly. "I'd like to go back to my quarters now."

* * *

Alone once again now that Julian had left, Weyoun felt the thin mask of control slip away. Sinking to the floor, violent tremors raced through his body. He gripped his upper arms tightly, as though he could hold himself together, as though he would fall apart if he let go. His nails left little crescent shaped bruises on his skin. He realized he was crying. He wanted to scream at himself for being so weak.

He was supposed to be in control, always in control. He should be calm, collected and clever. If need be he should be devious, manipulating the responses of all those around him to serve the purposes of the Founders. He was made to serve the Founders. What use was he here, like this? Odo had asked him to stay but that he didn't really want him here was obvious. The Founder had kept him on the station out of pity, nothing more. He served no function. He was useless, a burden to his God.

Forcing his breathing to steady, he brought one hand up to feel for the termination device implanted in his skull.

* * *

Julian was on his way back to the infirmary when he ran into a certain tailor for the second time that day. He nodded in greeting, not intending to stop but a light hand on his shoulder gave him pause. "May I have a word with you doctor?" the Cardassian asked, a hint of urgency in his tone.

"Of course," Julian replied without hesitation.

Leading the younger man to an alcove out of ear-shot of passersby Garak asked, "What did Dukat do to that Vorta?"

Bashir was stunned. "How do you know he did anything to him?"

"My dear doctor, Weyoun may have been trained to hide his emotions but I have a talent for noticing such things. He was terrified – of me. I'm surprised he didn't have a panic attack in the middle of the promenade."

Julian said nothing but his silence was confirmation enough that something significant had happened. Knowing Dukat as he did, the Cardassian could make a fair guess as to what. "Was it wise, do you think," he asked, "to leave him alone?"

Realization dawned on the young doctor's face. "I'll go check on him," he said, hurrying back the way he had come.

As he watched the human jog away, it occurred to Garak that the Changelings must care very little for the wellbeing of their devoted followers. Surely to leave a creature as small and slightly built as the Vorta at the mercy of a man such as Dukat was akin to throwing him to a rabid beast.

* * *

The door chimed.

"Weyoun?" Julian called.

No answer came.

"Computer," he asked, "where is Weyoun?"

"Weyoun is in his quarters," came the emotionless response.

"Open the door," the ordered quickly, "emergency medical over-ride Bashir 287 Gamma."

It slid open.

The Vorta was on the floor, back arched and pupils constricted to pin-pricks as his muscles jerked and spasmed. Julian swore. Running to the small alien he hit his com-badge, shouting for an emergency transport.


	3. Chapter 2: Floodgates

This story was originally going in a totally different direction but it just didn't seem right so I've merged it with another I was writing that had been in my head for ages. Hope people enjoy. I think it's much more interesting this way.

Re-done (jan 2013)

**Warnings: **themes of suicide, torture and abuse, post traumatic stress

* * *

Weyoun woke lying on a bio-bed. He blinked. The lights were bright and his head hurt. Groggily, he brought a hand up to the source of the pain. Behind his right ear he felt a thin line of scar tissue. The bone beneath seemed oddly smooth. It took him a moment to understand that his termination implant had been removed. He sat abruptly as his memory came flooding back. Instantly a pair of hands held his shoulders, keeping him still. The grip was strong but gentle. "You're in the infirmary," a voice he recognized as Dr. Bashir informed him.

"I activated my implant," he said, strangely calm when he remembered what he had done. "Why am I not dead?"

Julian winced, the very idea of such a device sickened him, for the Vorta to speak of it so casually... somehow just made it worse. "Another minute and you would have been," he told the alien, a touch of anger in his tone, "that or lobotomized. As it is I still don't know whether or not you've done yourself permanent damage."

"You saved me," the clone said. The words were not phrased as a question but the look on his face betrayed his confusion.

"I wasn't going to just let you to die," Bashir replied. The idea that he would not do everything in his power to save a life – any life – was distasteful. Did the Vorta really think he would have been left to die?

Weyoun said nothing for a moment. When he finally spoke his eyes were fixed on the ground. "We were always told that voluntary termination was instant and painless," he said." Yet when I activated my implant it hurt very much indeed and clearly death was not instantaneous." At last he looked up. His pale eyes were pools of confusion when he asked, "Why would the Founders lie to us?"

* * *

Two days after the failed suicide attempt he was released from the infirmary. A week after that the nightmares began. At first Weyoun didn't know what was happening – Vorta did not dream. It took him a while to realize that these strange scenes that played out as he slept were indeed what other races referred to as dreams. He wondered how they could see such things every night and not be driven to insanity. He wondered just how much damage activating the termination implant had done, that he could now experience such visions.

The nightmares were always the same, every time exhaustion overcame fear. It was dark. He was underwater. He would panic expecting to drown. His flailing arms would hit something hard and smooth: solid walls on every side, trapping him. There was no way out. Yet, though his lungs were filled with fluid, he would not drown.

* * *

Weyoun sat in the center of his bed on top of the covers, unaware that he was rocking back and forth. His eyes were tightly shut, as though that could block out the memories invading his mind.

_Dukat's leering face stared down at him._

_Hands were sliding under his clothes._

_Damar was laughing._

_Blood trails were stark against his skin._

_His was suffocating as his face was pushed down into tangled bed sheets._

_He was underwater, in the dark…_

His eyes shot open. It was all getting mixed up; what Dukat had done to him and the images from his nightmares. He just wanted to forget everything, to stop feeling their hands on his skin, to stop feeling so afraid. Why wouldn't this go away? His breath was coming too fast. He couldn't slow it. His hands were shaking. It felt like someone had turned the oxygen saturation right down. He thought he was back in the dream, trapped in the dark. He thought he was still in Dukat's rooms, trapped by strong hands pressing him down.

_Damar was laughing._

_Dukat was pushing into him._

_The sheet muffled his screams._

Curling into a tight ball, Weyoun shed helpless, desperate tears until he finally fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

* * *

Weyoun stared blankly out the viewport and tried not to think about anything at all. Still the questions ran circles in his mind. He was sure that were he to return to the Dominion now he would be judged defective and terminated. To be spared would be worse still for that would mean a return to Dukat's abuse. He wondered if he should kill himself. He didn't want to, even though he no longer served a purpose. When he had activated the implant he had thought there would be peace. Instead there was only pain and fear. Why would the Founders let their subjects die like that? Did they hate solids that much? What kind of Gods hated their own creations?

The door chimed. Weyoun blinked. It was a few seconds before he recognized the sound. "Who's there?" he asked.

It was Dr. Bashir. The Vorta stared for a brief moment, uncertain as to why the medical officer had come. Quickly however he covered his confusion with a diplomatic smile. "What can I do for you today doctor?" he asked, ushering him inside. He didn't want the human to leave, in fact was desperate for him to stay. It had been days since he had spoken with anyone and he did not want to be alone with his thoughts.

Julian stared around the room with a degree of shock. Every surface was covered in a variety of meticulously arranged junk. He supposed he should have expected this as his own quarters had been filled in a similar manner when the Vorta had used them during the occupation. It had taken hours to clean out. Still, how the small alien had accumulated all of these items when he scarcely seemed to venture beyond his own door was bewildering. "How did you collect all of this… stuff?" Bashir asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"I go for walks, at night," Weyoun replied.

Julian wasn't sure what to say to that. He wondered if the walks were taking the place of sleep. There were dark circles beneath the Vorta's pale eyes. He glanced around the room at old stem-bolts, jumbilia sticks, pieces of cutlery, assorted beads and dozens of other items. He wondered why the alien gathered these useless items.

"Was there something you wanted me for?" Weyoun asked.

Realizing he was being rude, the human apologized. "Yes," he said. "I wanted to make sure you're well."

"I am quite well doctor. Is there some reason I should not be?"

"Physically? No. But I have to admit I'm concerned about your mental state. You've been through a lot recently and you don't seem to be adjusting to life on the station very well." He glanced again at the other man's face. "Are you sleeping Weyoun?"

"Thank you for your concern but I assure you, I am perfectly fine. Vorta need very little sleep."

"But you do need some, correct? Would you mind if I stayed and talked with you for a little while?"

"Not at all." He motioned to a chair.

Out of his comfort zone Julian sat awkwardly, Weyoun taking the seat across from his. "Why haven't you been sleeping?" the doctor asked.

Weyoun hesitated. Suddenly, without having made a conscious decision to do so, he found himself confiding in the human. "I have dreams," he admitted.

"Is there something unusual about these dreams?" Bashir asked.

"Vorta don't dream," he replied.

"Oh." The doctor considered this for a moment. "What sort of dreams do you have?" he asked.

"They're always the same; I'm trapped underwater."

Julian looked for a moment at the former Dominion Ambassador. "It's probably stress causing the nightmares," he told him. "Still, I'd like to run some scans to rule out any neurological problems. This could be an after-effect of the damage caused by your… implant." He knew that there had been damage though he was still uncertain as to its exact nature. "Would you mind coming to the infirmary now," he asked, "and I'll make sure everything's alright?"

"Of course," Weyoun replied and, hiding his hesitancy, followed the doctor from the room.

* * *

"Have a seat on that bio-bed," Julian instructed. He disappeared into the next room for a moment, returning with a small electronic device. "Before we start the tests I'm going to place this sensor on your head. It will record your brain activity," he explained.

Weyoun nodded his understanding and Bashir reached out to attach the device. The instant the metal touched the skin of his temple Weyoun screamed.

_He was in a freezing room with white walls, convulsing on the floor. Two metal probes pierced the thin flesh on either side of his head and from them radiated indescribable agony. He could not think, could not even breathe. After what seemed an eternity the pain faded. He lay gasping for breath on the icy tiles. A cold, detached voice informed him; "That was the wrong answer."_

"Weyoun! What's wrong?"

Blinking, the Vorta found himself staring into the worried face of Dr. Bashir. He had fallen from the bio-bed and was sitting on the infirmary floor. "I was somewhere else," he whispered. His expression was bewildered. His voice sounded small and afraid.

* * *

Julian was puzzled, not to mention disturbed, by the hallucination Weyoun described to him. Asking the Vorta to remain in sick-bay for observation, he contacted both the captain and Constable Odo.

* * *

"Well?" Sisko asked upon arriving – the Changeling a few steps behind, "what exactly is the problem Doctor?"

"I wish I could say for certain Captain. Weyoun was complaining of recurring nightmares so I brought him in for a synaptic scan. His reaction to the monitor was extreme. It triggered some sort of panic attack."

Odo frowned. "Did Weyoun give you any indication on what exactly it was about the monitor that upset him?"

"No. And I don't know enough about Vorta in general or Weyoun in particular to make an educated guess." Julian paused. "That's why I've asked you both to come. Perhaps you know something I'm unaware of that could help me to treat or even just to diagnose him."

"I'm not so sure about that Doctor," replied the Captain. "I think you might know more about the species than I do."

Julian frowned; this was a long shot and he knew it but he needed help to understand what was going on with the small clone. He led the other two men to one of the small individual room at the back of the infirmary.

The Vorta – sitting awkwardly on a bio-bed – jumped down instantly upon seeing Odo and bowed reverently. "I apologize deeply for any interruption or disturbance I may have caused you," he told the Changeling.

"That's not necessary," the constable replied, embarrassed and unhappy with the attention.

"Can you tell us what happened to you?" Sisko asked the dark haired alien and Odo was glad the room's focus was no longer on him.

"I'm afraid I don't understand it myself," Weyoun responded, frowning. "I saw strange images as if I were dreaming but I had not been asleep."

"What exactly did you see?" prompted the Captain.

"I saw a white room. I was on the ground. There were… devices attached to my head, going in..." he indicated the slight depressions of his temples, "… right here. It hurt very much."

Sisko interrupted, asking, "Have you ever been in that situation?"

"No." The Vorta's face betrayed his absolute confusion.

"Could it be something one of your… predecessors experienced?" the Captain queried.

"I don't think so," Weyoun replied, biting lightly on his lower lip as he stared down at the floor. He was unable to explain what was happening to him and, though he tried to hide it, he was clearly afraid.

* * *

_He was screaming on the cold tiles again, and then left gasping for breath as the pain faded away._

_"That was the wrong answer," announced a disembodied voice. "What is your purpose in life?" it demanded._

_"Why are you doing this?" he pleaded, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Some part of Weyoun's mind not fully immersed in the dream noted how strange his voice sounded. Then the pain came again. Blinding agony ripped through his body. It was like being burnt alive. He was sure he would die. But the pain ended, drained slowly away and he was still breathing as he shook and twitched on the ground._

_"That was the wrong answer," repeated the cold voice. "What is your purpose in life?"_

_Sobbing, he gave the answer the voice demanded, "to serve… to serve the Founders in all things."_

Weyoun woke with a start. What had he just seen? Why was he having these dreams? Hurriedly, he pressed the call button left by Dr. Bashir.

A few minutes later he was sitting in a small conference room with Bashir and Odo, Captain Sisko having decided to leave the matter in their hands for the time being.

Odo studied the small Vorta. He looked exhausted, purple shadows beneath his eyes making the skin seemed bruised. An image flashed through the Changeling's mind of the clone pressed against the wall by Dukat. "Have we considered the possibility that these dreams may be nothing more than ordinary nightmares?" the Constable asked quickly.

"It's possible," Julian conceded.

"Forgive me," Weyoun interrupted, "but why would I dream such things? It is blasphemy to suggest that any Vorta would need to be coerced in order to serve the Founders."

Odo shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"The sub-conscious is a difficult thing to understand," explained Julian. "It could be that you're angry over everything you've been through recently and that you feel guilty about that anger. The confusion could be coming through in your dreams. I don't know, I'm still not convinced there isn't something more going on here." He thought for a few moments. "I have an idea," he announced finally. "Odo, can you contact Quark? We'll need to use one of his holosuites."

* * *

They were led through the empty bar by an irate Quark. It was several hours before he generally woke and he was not pleased to be out of bed. It had taken harsh words from the constable to convince him to open the holosuites so early.

With assurances that they would be charged double, the Ferrengi left them to themselves and headed back to his quarters for a few more hours sleep.

"I want you to describe what you saw in your dreams to the computer," Julian instructed as they stepped into the empty room. "I'll be monitoring your brainwaves for anything unusual." Weyoun tensed, afraid the doctor's scanning would trigger another episode of hallucination. "Don't worry," the human reassured him, realizing what he was worried about, "I'll only be using the tricorder."

He nodded, embarrassed by his fear. "Thank you for this Doctor, Odo." He took a deep breath. "Computer, show a white room please."

The walls, floor and ceiling of the holosuites became stark white.

"Can you make it smaller" he asked uncertainly, "and increase the lighting level?"

The walls seemed to rush inwards and Weyoun flinched. The light was now uncomfortably bright. Squinting, the Vorta said, "make the floor tiled and reduce the temperature by fifteen degrees if that's possible."

His hands started to tremble. Julian watched and knew it couldn't be from the cold, it was too soon. "Computer, add a metal desk," he said. He stopped as it appeared and looked at the scene facing them. "This is it," he whispered.

Julian glanced at his tricorder. "Activity in the memory centers of your brain is spiking," he said, alarmed. Weyoun didn't seem to hear. His breath was coming in shaky gasps. He crouched down and sat on the floor. Placing his hands over his ridged ears he stared straight ahead, eyes wide and seeing nothing.

* * *

_He sat in the freezing room, trying to block out the words blaring from hidden speakers. His body was small, his features juvenile. _

_"I live to serve the Founders."_

_He remembered the forest where he was born, the colorful huts in the trees and the dappled light._

_"I was created by the Founders."_

_His fingernails dug into his skin, drawing blood. He struggled to recall the taste of fruit, the sweet juices running down his chin. But it was gone._

_"It is an honor to die for the Founders."_

_He couldn't remember his mother's face._

_"I live to serve the Founders."_

"Weyoun?"

He looked up at Dr. Bashir, his expression blank.

"Weyoun?"

"I remember," he said. His voice was distant.

Julian looked at him with worry. "I'm bringing you back to the infirmary." Catching the Vorta by one elbow he pulled him to his feet. Catching sight of Odo, Weyoun stopped. "I know," he said, looking at the shape-shifter. "I know what you did."

"What Weyoun? What did I do?"

"No, not you Odo, the Changelings." He fell silent and a bewildered Julian led him from the room.

* * *

At the start of his next duty shift Bashir checked on the Vorta. He did not appear to have moved from where the doctor had placed him – lying on his side on the bio-bed. "How are you feeling?" Julian asked, crouching down beside him.

Weyoun blinked. "The Kurill system," he said suddenly and without explanation, "the largest moon of the first planet."

"I'm sorry?" Julian asked, confused by this response.

"That's where we came from," the Vorta stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I have to go there."

"The Kurill system is in the Gamma quadrant."

"I know." Abruptly, he changed the subject. "If the Changelings find out what's happened they'll have me killed."

"What? Why would they want you dead?" It did not escape Julian's notice that Weyoun no longer referred to the shape-shifting aliens as 'Founders'.

"I'm defective," the Vorta replied.

"Defective… What do you mean?" Machinery was defective. Goods were defective. Sentient beings were not defective.

"Their dirty little secret was locked inside my brain," the clone explained, expression distant, "only it wasn't locked up as tight as it should have been. Now I know what they don't want anyone to know, what they'd kill to keep buried."

"What do you know?" Julian asked. "What's their secret Weyoun?"

"The Changelings didn't make the Vorta, they broke us."

Only when Weyoun managed to get out the full story did the true magnitude of what he was saying finally became clear.


	4. Chapter 3: Decimation

Thanks for the reviews! I had most of this chapter written but it'll probably be a while before the next update.

re-done (jan 2013)

**Warnings:** for mistreatment of children and a brief description of self-harm.

* * *

They were heading for the Kurill system. Sitting in his ready-room Benjamin Sisko re-played the statement made by Weyoun a day earlier.

_"The Vorta were a pre-industrial society before the Foun-," he stopped, correcting himself, "before the Changelings came. We… they lived in small villages built in the treetops. The first Weyoun was born there. He was happy. He had a mother and a younger sister. Then, when he was perhaps eight years old, they came. They already had the Jemhadarr by then. They were huge, terrifying. They seemed to kill indiscriminately. There was screaming and blood. But at the end, all the children old enough to walk – yet young enough to have not yet begun the transition to adulthood – remained."_

"Captain?"

Pausing the recording he tapped his comm badge. "Sisko here."

"We're approaching Kurill Prime."

* * *

The sight that greeted Sisko when he stepped onto the bridge stopped him in his tracks. The planet should have been M class, with large oceans and lush vegetation covered land masses. Instead dirty grey brown dust clouds shrouded the atmosphere. What little could be discerned of the world's surface appeared to be lava and barren rock.

"Confirm co-ordinates?" he asked Dax in shock.

"Confirmed Ben," the Trill said, a frown on her face.

"What happened here?" he questioned.

"The entire crust of the planet has been obliterated, centuries ago. It's completely dead," she told him. "This could only have been done from orbit."

Weyoun stood very still, weak eyes wide as he stared at the view screen.

"Did you know about this?" Sisko asked.

He shook his head, biting down on his lower lip as he did not trust himself to speak.

"The moon is coming into view now," Jadzia advised.

It was small, composed of a pale whitish rock.

"Magnify," Ben instructed.

A large structure became visible, a dark splodge of steely grey.

"Life signs?" the Captain asked.

The Trill lieutenant examined her console for a moment. "I'm reading three Changelings and several hundred Vorta – though all but thirty seem to be in suspended animation." She looked up. "Nearly all of them are children Ben."

"Can we get a transporter lock on the Changelings?" he asked her.

"Confirmed. I'm locking on to their signals now," she replied.

"Beam them to the brig," Sisko instructed. "Surround the containment cell with a level three force field."

Jadzia pressed a control on her console. "Done," she announced.

"Good work old man," Ben said as he headed for the door. "I'm going to talk to them. Prepare an away team to leave in fifteen minutes."

* * *

When Benjamin entered the Brig he found an amorphous mass of thick golden fluid squirming inside the cell – occasionally reaching out a tendril to test the security field.

"I'm Captain Benjamin Sisko," he stated loudly. "You're on board the USS Defiant."

A few seconds passed. Then a blob of the ooze separated from the main mass and lengthening upwards, assumed the shape of a man. "Return us," he demanded.

"What's going on down on that moon?" Sisko asked, calmly and with authority, ignoring the shape-shifter's demand.

"It is a research station, unrelated to the war and none of your concern," the Changeling replied.

"Why is your 'research station' in orbit of a murdered planet?" came the Captain's quick response.

"None of your concern," the shape-shifter stated, face blank of expression. "Release us at once."

Without a further word, the Captain turned and walked from the room. At the transporter pad he found Dax waiting with Worf, Julian and Weyoun. He raised an eyebrow on seeing the Vorta.

"I think it would be best if you stayed on the ship," he informed him.

"Forgive me Captain," the former diplomat started, "but I don't believe you've thought this through fully. I will look at least something like the Vorta on that moon. No one else here will. They're not used to aliens. They'll be afraid."

After a few moments consideration Sisko relented. "You can go. Provided," he added, "that you agree to do exactly as Dax tells you."

"Of course," Weyoun instantly agreed. "Thank you Captain."

The away team took their positions on the pad and Sisko watched, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, as they disappeared in columns of blue light.

* * *

They rematerialized in a large empty room that had the look of a shuttle bay. It was cold compared to the Defiant and the light was overly bright. Weyoun fought the urge to shudder. Though logically he knew that he – Weyoun 5 – had never been in this place before, it felt frighteningly familiar.

"Do you know the way to the stasis tubes?" Dax asked.

He nodded, not trusting his voice and lead them a short distance into a cavernous room, filled from floor to ceiling with row upon row of stasis pods. Each pod contained the unconscious form of a child. Though they had the same ridged ears, they looked quite different from the Vorta the alpha quadrant had come to know. Their skin was a rich caramel brown, their eyes a darker version of the same shade. They wore only minimal clothing but it was vividly colored. Their hair was wildly styled and many wore bangles made from beads and feathers.

After a moment of stunned silence upon seeing the sheer numbers of individuals being esentially stored in this place Dax handed out signal boosters and they began to set them up around the tubes. A few minutes later they were beamed away. Empty now, the room seemed even larger.

"There's more tubes through there," Weyoun said, pointing almost robotically to a door in the far wall.

Stepping through, the away team found another room of stasis pods, smaller than the first. The Vorta in these tubes were all young adults and looked more like those they were used to. They wore stark white tunics and slacks.

These pods too were fitted with signal boosters and transported away.

On board the Defiant Sisko again reviewed the recorded interview.

_"They changed us. I suppose they… they must have used genetic re-sequencing for the physical alterations. But it wasn't just that… They destroyed everything we were, obliterated us and remade us as tools to do their bidding. They took away our thoughts and planted new ones in their place…_

_There was no contact with other Vorta, virtually no contact with anyone for **years**. Everything was automated. I – I'm sorry: Weyoun 1 – saw a changeling perhaps half a dozen times in what must have been over a decade. I remember crying, screaming, ripping out fingernails trying to claw through the walls, 'lessons' that lasted for days, not being allowed sleep for weeks… It was torture, what they did, how they made us."_

* * *

The away team stood outside the first of thirty identical cubicles. These were the rooms of the children currently being conditioned to be the servants of the Founders. Weyoun's hands were shaking. He clasped them tightly behind his back to keep them still. Dax was working on a control panel set into the wall, trying to by-pass the security codes needed to gain access. A minute or two passed before the panel gave a confirmatory blip and the entire section of wall making up the front of one cube slid upwards. The space beyond was sterile. A metallic desk was the only furniture. A small figure darted away from them, to cower in the farthest corner. It was a girl, perhaps just entering her teens. Her skin was almost as pale as the paper-white clothing she wore. She stared up at them with frightened violet eyes. Small metal implants pierced the skin of her temples.

Weyoun was the first to break out of his shock; he had already known what to expect, had in a very real sense already experienced the horrors of this place. Crouching down, so as not to frighten her, he approached the girl.

"Hello," he said softly.

She stared at him with suspicion. "You look like me," she said finally, voice cracking slightly.

"I'm a Vorta, the same as you," he replied.

"Why are you here?" she asked, distrust still clear on her face.

"To help," he told the child. "We're going to take you away from here and bring you to a safe place."

For a moment she continued to stare before – apparently deciding to trust what Weyoun had told her – she nervously stood and allowed herself to be led from the cell.

In the next room they found a tiny boy, no older than five. The alteration of his genetics appeared to be incomplete; some patches of his skin lacked pigment, while others remained dark. His eyes were still a deep brown. He screamed when the wall opened and curled into a tight ball, eyes squeezed shut. Jadzia gathered him up in her arms, rocking him like an infant. At first he only screamed louder at the contact but after a few moments he calmed, clinging to the science officer as tears replaced screams. She stroked his dark hair and lifted him from the cold floor.

The next cell too contained a boy, this one in his mid-teens. He stood in the center of the room and though he flinched when the group entered he made no other movement.

"What's your name?" Weyoun asked him.

"I live to serve the Founders."

The clone bit his lip to keep from saying anything. "Come with us," he instructed the boy.

The next child asked if she could go home. No one knew how to tell her that her home no longer existed, had not for hundreds of years. The next cried for his mother. After that they found a boy covered in self-inflicted wounds, slowly and methodically raking his fingernails through his flesh. He didn't even look up when they entered.

In all they rescued twenty nine children from the row of cells. That left one unaccounted for.

Fear was evident on Weyoun's face when he told them the way to the laboratory.

It was a large room with cold white walls, computer terminals and multiple sets of robotic arms. The children would not enter. Several of them began to cry. Jadzia stayed with them as the others went ahead.

The lab appeared empty. Nonetheless Weyoun headed straight for a dark shape near the center of the floor. When the Vorta pressed a button and a lid lifted off the top of the shape, Dr. Bashir recognized it as a gene bath. He shuddered. Being submerged in absolute darkness had been a terrifying experience, even with his parents nearby to reassure him. He couldn't imagine what it would be like for a child snatched from their world, all alone and knowing nothing of technology.

Weyoun was reaching into the bath, lifting out a young girl, naked and coughing up oxygenated fluid. Breaking from his trance, Julian ran over and slapping her back helped her to cough up the liquid. She clung to them, crying.


	5. Chapter 4: From The Ashes

Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter done. Not a whole lot actually happens in it but it's important to set things up for the next chapter where things should start to get really exciting :)

Re-done (jan 2013)

**Warnings:** mentions of mistreatment of children and rape, depression

* * *

**Chapter 4: From Ashes**

Ben stood just inside the infirmary door, watching as the Vorta children found conscious were examined. Thirty traumatized children, some injured, all bewildered and afraid… Julian and his staff were doing a remarkable job by managing to maintain some sense of order. Weyoun, though clearly out of his depth, was trying to help. The children did seem marginally calmer with an adult of their own species present, which was probably why Julian had let him stay.

After a while all the children had been fed and settled down for the night. They were sleeping two to a bed. One boy was sucking his thumb. That was when it really struck the captain that these were _children_, children taken from their world to be tortured and warped in body and soul. The father in him seethed at the idea of it. "Captain?" asked a soft voice, breaking him from his thoughts. He realized Weyoun was standing in front of him, violet eyes squinting slightly as he struggled to focus them. The clone looked exhausted and afraid. "What's going to happen to them?" he asked.

"Those that hadn't been altered are being sent to a facility on Earth," Sisko told the former diplomat. "They'll be well looked after. Hopefully when this war is finally over they can be adopted and have proper families again. For now though Starfleet won't authorize it. They're afraid the Changelings might try to take them back."

Weyoun found himself for the first time agreeing with Starfleet. He was quite sure their concern was well founded. "What about the others?" he asked.

"These children and the fourteen adults we found are going to remain on the station for the time being," Ben explained. "A counselor is being sent. The station's needed one for years to be honest. Anyway, she'll help as best she can and Odo's agreed to do his best to convince the older ones that his people aren't gods. I trust you'll help as well?" he asked, though privately the captain wondered if Weyoun might not be just as confused as any of the Vorta they had rescued.

"Of course," he replied, flinching slightly as a young girl cried out in her sleep.

* * *

The children were placed with volunteers from the station's staff and residents. The adults posed more of a problem. Completely indoctrinated, there was a significant risk one or more of them might attempt to contact the Dominion. Leaving them in stasis was suggested but that would only have been delaying the problem. Eventually they were placed in secured quarters, a security officer posted outside to ensure they did not leave without an escort. Odo spoke to them, attempting to undo some of damage his people had inflicted. He did his best though he hated it, hated how the Vorta looked at him and the way it made him feel, guilty and embarrassed all at once.

* * *

Looking at the children's genetic code it was easy for Julian to see where alterations had been made. The purely physical ones were the most obvious and also the most baffling. Why bother? Did the Founders simply like purple? Then their senses had been altered, some strengthened, most weakened. Their ability to procreate had been removed.

Julian was sure he could reverse the changes. He was also sure that the Federation would never allow it, not if _he_ were to ask.

* * *

The councilor arrived after three days, a young unjoined Trill named Ezri. Weyoun hadn't expected that he would also be speaking to her but Julian had insisted he should. It turned out however that the Vorta quite enjoyed the sessions. Even if the subject matter was often unpleasant, he liked having someone to talk to.

* * *

"Why did you stay on Deep Space Nine?" Ezri had asked Weyoun on their first meeting. "It doesn't say why in the records, only that Constable Odo was responsible."

"I remained behind because Odo asked me to," was his simple answer.

She responded with, "you could have said no."

"Actually I couldn't have, not that it's really relevant." He paused before explaining. "I wanted to stay because it got me out of a bad situation."

"What situation was that?" she asked.

Weyoun looked uncomfortable and the young woman wondered if her question had been too direct. "Dukat…" he hesitated, fingernails leaving little purple-red crescents where they pressed into the skin of his arms, "enjoyed demonstrating his physical superiority," he finished quickly.

Ezri wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement. Her confusion must have shown on her face for Weyoun gave her a small forced smile and apologized for being obtuse. "I was trained as a diplomat," he said, "honesty does not come easily."

"If you don't want to talk about this that's alright you know," Ezri said.

"No, I _do_." It was hard to explain. He wanted to forget what had happened yet he could not and he was so tired of secrecy. Weyoun had already lived more than four lifetimes built on secrets and lies. Dukat had hurt him but he would not give the Cardassian more power by refusing to acknowledge what he had done. "He raped me," the Vorta said, his voice steady and his face composed. He found that he felt better for finally saying it aloud, as though he had somehow taken back control.

* * *

Captain Sisko sat in his ready room, waiting along with Odo for the new counselor to arrive. After a few minutes she slipped inside, breathing heavily and apologizing for being late. Dismissing the minor infraction, Benjamin motioned for her to sit. "Are you making any progress?" he asked.

"Some," Ezri replied, "At least I think I am." She frowned.

"Is there anything that would help?" Sisko asked.

Ezri shook her head. "Not really. It would certainly benefit the children to have more adult Vorta around but obviously that's not possible."

Odo looked up. "That's not exactly correct," he told her.

"What are you thinking of?" Sisko asked the security chief.

"Keevan."

Benjamin shot the Changeling a glance. "You can't be serious," he said.

"I'm quite serious Captain," replied Odo. "He's not benefiting anyone sitting in a Federation prison cell."

"Do you honestly think he can be trusted?" Sisko asked.

"I don't know but I think we can find out."

* * *

Escorted by a Starfleet security officer Keevan stepped off the transport. Given his small frame and lack of defiance the shackles around his wrists seemed unnecessary.

He glanced up at Captain Sisko and then at Odo, his gaze linger a moment longer on the Changeling, before looking down again. His affect was flat, disinterested.

* * *

Weyoun smiled at the other Vorta when he was brought to his room. It seemed a genuine smile and threw Keevan somewhat. He gestured for the other clone to sit, taking a seat across from him when he did so. There was silence for several moments. In the end it was Keevan who spoke first.

"Is this a prisoner exchange?" he asked.

"Yes," Weyoun replied, lying fluently.

"I'm going to be executed then, when we return to the Gamma quadrant?" His tone was almost bored. He wondered why he even bothered to ask. He knew what was waiting for him: pain and death.

"It's not for me to decide," Weyoun responded. "Why did you allow yourself to be captured Keevan?"

The Vorta frowned and did not answer.

"This isn't an interrogation," Weyoun told him, "I'd just quite like to know."

When Keevan still remained silent the former diplomat looked away. "Are you hungry?" he asked after a moment.

Keevan nodded.

Standing and walking to the replicator Weyoun ordered a bowl of mixed berries. "I can taste some of them, just a little," he said as he handed over the bowl.

Keevan ate awkwardly with his wrists locked together. When the bowl was half empty he set it down. "Do you really want to know why I didn't kill myself like a good little clone?"

"Yes."

"Because I've already died for them once," he answered, some emotion finally coming through in his tone, "and I have no wish to do so again." He paused for a moment, meeting the other Vorta's gaze, trying to decide whether or not to say anymore. "I know," Keevan said at last, "I know what they did to us. I could tell you but you wouldn't listen."

"This isn't a prisoner exchange," Weyoun stated.

Keevan looked up, puzzled. "What then?" he asked.

"I don't work for the Dominion anymore," the other clone replied. "One month ago I activated my termination implant. Dr. Bashir was able to save me but there was… damage of a sort. A mental block was eroded, releasing memories that belonged to the first Weyoun. I didn't know what was happening at first. I had dreams of pain and stark white rooms. It was a while before I could make sense of it."

Keevan stared. "I didn't think anyone else remembered," he said.

"How did you find out?" Weyoun asked.

"I knew from the moment I was activated," replied the other Vorta, "but I had enough sense of self-preservation to feign devotion. How did you end up on this space station Weyoun?" he asked after a moment.

The former ambassador looked down worrying his lower lip. "Odo asked me to remain here in order to remove me from an… unpleasant situation." He frowned, fingers unconsciously tracing the faint lines of scars hidden beneath his clothes. Keevan noticed but said nothing, wondering just what that 'situation' had been. "He is a good man," Weyoun said, "whatever his people may have done."

"Why am I here?" Keevan asked, cutting to the heart of the matter at hand.

"Did you ever notice," Weyoun asked, "how the Changelings always spread us so thinly, kept us apart from other Vorta?"

Keevan nodded. "I always thought," he said, "that they were afraid of what would happen if we were allowed to spend time together."

"I think," Weyoun said, "that perhaps they were right to worry. As a species we are stronger together." He paused. "Odo?" he called and Keevan abruptly realized that the room was bugged. Of course it was bugged... "I take it you heard all of that? Do you think Captain Sisko will agree to taking off the shackles now?"

A short while later the constable arrived. "Sisko really doesn't like you, you know," he said as he removed the restraints.

"I did hold him hostage at one point," the Vorta reasoned.

"I think it's more that you sent the Jemhadarr under your command to their deaths," Odo replied.

Keevan looked at the shape-shifter as though he had gone insane. "They're _Jemhadarr_," he said, "they want to die in battle. The white was gone. Would your Captain have rathered I let them go insane, kill me, slaughter his men and then tear each other apart?"

"Possibly. I don't pretend to understand humans," Odo said.

"Computer," Weyoun asked, interrupting their conversation, "what time is it?"

"O nine hundred hours and twenty two minutes," came the emotionless reply, causing the small Vorta to smile.

"Keevan," he said, "there is something I'd very much like to show you."

* * *

They walked to the holosuites. Stepping into one of the rooms Keevan was surprised to find himself in what seemed to be a large outdoor space. A warm sun shone down from the simulated blue sky, illuminating a large brightly coloured playground. There were swings, slides, merry-go-rounds, climbing frames and see-saws and dozens of children playing. What was remarkable however was that most of them appeared to be Vorta.

"You rescued them… us…"

The Vorta children played together with humans and Bajorans. They were smiling, in that moment at least, happy. And it seemed in that moment as though things might – one day – be okay again.


	6. Chapter 5: SOS

Ok, things start to get exciting again here, plus Eris comes into the story. I hope people like it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. It may not seem like it but it really does make me write faster. I'm hoping to have the next chapter up fairly soon but can't promise anything.

**Warnings:** relatively non-graphic hetrosexual sex, violence, depression/mentions of suicidal thoughts, minor character death

**Chapter 5: S.O.S.**

Eris closed her eyes and leaned back against the warm, firm body of the alien diplomat. His hands moved over her skin, the sensation painfully intense yet not unpleasant. He kissed her neck and for a moment she could not breathe. She wasn't designed for this. But he'd said he loved her. This wasn't allowed. But no one would ever know. His strong fingers teased her small breasts and she gasped. Biting down on her lower lip to keep from crying out she felt blood stream down her chin. The sensations were too much. She wasn't meant for this. His fingers moved between her legs. It hurt but it felt good at the same time. It was too much but she didn't want him to stop.

Eris had been on a diplomatic mission when she'd met her lover. He'd said she was beautiful. She didn't know if it was true. She thought he might be beautiful. She wasn't supposed to do things like this but he'd looked at her with such awe, as though she were something worthy of worship.

She'd be leaving the next day for a new assignment. It was only one night. No one would know.

Three months later, crouched beside an open consul, the young Vorta struggled to control her breathing as she encoded a message and sent it out over sub-space.

* * *

_Weyoun flinched and tried to pull away as Dukat reached out to touch his face. A sharp slap followed and a command to stay still. The Cardassian ran a finger along the smaller man's collarbone, sharp and delicate as a bird's. _

_Damar was sitting a few meters away. Dukat stood and walked over to him, leaving the Vorta where he sat huddled in a corner. He took an – almost empty – bottle of kanar from his subordinate, drained the last of it and returned. Admiring the shape of the empty bottle he asked Weyoun, "What should I do with this, do you think?" He was grinning but without any warmth. "Surely you can think of something?" he coaxed as he prodded the clone's arm with the base of the bottle. _

"_Please… don't…" came the broken reply._

_Dukat's face contorted with pleasure. "Well, since you asked so nicely…" he began, standing and walking away from the Vorta. Abruptly he turned and flung the bottle at the wall above Weyoun's head. Shards of glass rained down as the terrorized man tried to shield himself from the razor sharp shower. _

He woke suddenly, breath caught in his throat. He was shaking. "Computer!" he called, "Lights!" The lights came on, banishing the remembered forms of the two Cardassians. There was only Keevan, slowly sitting up in the other bed.

"Is something wrong Weyoun?"

"Just memories. Sorry I woke you."

"That's alright," the other Vorta replied. "I think all I did in that Federation prison was sleep."

"What was it like there?" Weyoun asked.

"My bed was comfortable," Keevan said with a somewhat forced smile. "The humans' attempts at coercion were pathetic. I was on my own all the time though and _that_ did hurt. I thought a lot about killing myself but I was too afraid." He paused, listening. "Your heartbeat's still very fast."

"I know."

A short time passed. Keevan disentangled himself from his sheets and moved to join the other clone. "I don't know how to be comforting."

"Neither do I," Weyoun replied after a moment's thought. "I think we've forgotten how."

"What are we anymore, the Vorta?" Keevan asked after a long silence. "Are we still people or just things? They've taken so much away from us, taken so much of us away."

Weyoun thought for a moment. "Then we have to take it back." He took a deep breath before slowly and very deliberately placing his hand onto that of the other clone. He flinched as he made contact, they both did. Touch was something they'd been trained to avoid. Despite the discomfort however neither moved. They knew that at one time, in memories that were not their own, such things had brought reassurance. They hoped that one day they might again.

* * *

At first Eris hadn't realized what was happening. She'd become ill, had difficulty keeping food down but she was not so ill that it interfered with her work and at the time she was too busy to worry about it. When the opportunity finally arose to see a medic the nausea had passed and so there was no longer any need. Later, when her abdomen began to swell, she assumed she must be over-eating, reminded herself to cut down. It wasn't until she first felt the child move within her that she finally understood.

It shouldn't have been possible but she was pregnant.

* * *

She snuck into the infirmary that night, used a scanner to confirm what she already knew. There, on the viewer was a tiny infant, it's head huge in comparison to its body, it's tiny limbs kicking as it floated within her. Its existence could no longer be denied.

Eris' hands shook as she deleted the record of her scan. That fragile form growing inside her was a death sentence, proof that she was defective. Hurriedly she searched through drawers of medications and chemicals. It wasn't hard to find something that would be fatal to the fetus. As she went to fill a hypo-spray however she found herself standing frozen, unable to proceed. She couldn't do it, couldn't take the life of this child, her child. Yet neither could she hide the pregnancy, not for much longer at least. There was only one other choice; she had to leave.

* * *

"This message came in an hour ago, bounced off a relay station on the far side of the wormhole. Mister Garak discovered it. He can't read it." Sisko looked pointedly at Weyoun. "I'm willing to bet you can."

They were alone in the commander's office. Weyoun squinted, tilting his head to the side as he tried to focus on the viewer. "Can you make the image bigger?" he asked.

Ben inputted a quick command and the size of the text doubled.

"Ah," Weyoun said. "Yes, I can read this. It's Dominion code."

"What does it say?"

"It's a distress call," He blinked in surprise, "and it's addressed to me." He looked at the Captain, who gestured for him to continue. "I want to… leave," he read slowly as he deciphered the strange strings of characters. "I can be useful… Please. It's signed 'Eris'. There are co-ordinates."

Sisko sighed. "I've encountered Eris before," he said. "She's a spy."

"She was designed for infiltration," Weyoun agreed.

"You know her."

"I've never met her but I have read her personnel file."

"Then you'll understand why I can't act on this message."

The Vorta stood for a moment, considering, features carefully blank. "Of course," he finally replied. Then without pausing he asked, "What is my status on this station Captain Sisko? Am I a prisoner?"

"You're not a prisoner," Ben replied, startled both by the bluntness and the abrupt change of topic. "All the Vorta on DS9 have been officially classed as refugees."

"In that case I am going to leave for a while."

"What?"

"I would like to go on a trip," Weyoun stated, quite calmly.

Benjamin frowned deeply. "Let me guess," he said, "your destination would be the co-ordinates on the SOS?"

"Yes," Weyoun replied, inclining his head in ascent.

"I can't allow that."

"Did you not just say that I was free to leave Deep Space Nine?"

Sisko frowned again. Despite everything that had happened recently he did not trust the former ambassador. He certainly didn't want him meeting unaccompanied with a known spy. "Why do you want to do this?" he asked.

Weyoun paused. He wanted to help Eris, hadn't really considered the 'why' of it. "She's a Vorta, like me," he said at last, "and she wants to leave the Dominion."

"You do realize that this," Ben gestured towards the message, "is almost certainly a set up?"

"It's possible," the small alien conceded. "However, Eris is the first of her line. It's equally possible that she's broken through her conditioning."

The Captain sighed. Short of locking Weyoun up there was little he could do to stop him. Still he was determined to retain some control over the situation. "You can use a runabout," he said. "I'll assign someone to pilot you and act as an escort."

"Thank you Captain." Weyoun was careful not to smile. It really wouldn't do for Sisko to realize he had been manipulated, that the former diplomat had no idea how he would have gotten to the gamma quadrant on his own.

* * *

"I want to go with you," Keevan had said.

"Why?" Weyoun asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought you were… opposed to the idea of dying."

"I am but I'm more afraid of being left alone again."

* * *

Twelve hours later they were on a runabout with a rather unfriendly Starfleet lieutenant named Dunne, coming in to land on a small Gamma Quadrant moon.

The surface, they found on exiting the ship, was dark and rocky, slightly low on gravity but at least there was enough oxygen that breathing wouldn't be a problem. Lifesign readings led them to a cavern and there she was, standing nervously, waiting.

Keevan found himself smiling, until then not having dared to believe that they could really do this, take another of their kind away from the Founders. "Are you Eris?" the human was saying, one hand on his phaser as Weyoun was moving quickly to join her.

"I am," she replied.

"Why did you contact me?" Weyoun asked quietly, standing close enough that he could see her face.

Eris looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze with a determined expression. "Everyone knows you defected," she said. "They say you're a traitor. I don't care. You were the only person I could think of who might help me. I didn't expect you to come though, not really."

"Help you with what?"

"To save my child's life."

He stared at her with a sort of wonder. "You're pregnant?" he asked, weak eyes drifting towards her stomach.

"It's not showing yet but yes."

"It should be impossible," Weyoun said, his eyes sparkling with amazement. "Dr. Bashir was sure they'd written it out of our genetic codes." Snapping back to reality he gestured for Eris to precede him out of the cave. "We have a ship just a short distance away," he told her. "There are things you need to know, important things but they can wait until we're safely on our way back to the wormhole."

"They'll be waiting forever then," said a loud and unexpected voice. Three Vorta and a Starfleet officer spun around to find their exit blocked by a half-dozen Cardassians. At the head of the group was legate Damar. Lieutenant Dunne made to draw his phaser but before he could fire a disrupter blast punched a hole right through his chest. "Grab the little rats," Damar ordered. Almost instantly Keevan and Weyoun found themselves held with bruising force. The first Cardassian to approach Eris however was flung into a rock wall by a blast of telekinetic force. A second knocked her unconscious with the butt of his rifle before she had a chance to recover.

Damar was smiling.

Weyoun could feel his wrists being shackled behind his back. At the edge of his vision he could see Keevan, face blank with shock. _'__He should never have come,' _the small Vorta realized.

A familiar figure stepped through the mouth of the cave and Weyoun froze. His hands started to shake.

"Miss me?" asked Dukat.


	7. Chapter 6: Pain

I didn't get any reviews on the last chapter :( Did people not like it? Well, here's the next one anyway. This is the most unplesant part of the story (the name might give that away) so check the warning before you read this.

**Warnings:** Violence, torture, rape and sexual assault, one swear word, mention of child abuse, character death

I've started the next chapter but I've still got a lot of writting to do on it so it might be a while before I post it.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Pain**

They were beamed up to a ship and locked in a cell that was nothing but a bare and empty room. Keevan and Weyoun had their hands shackled behind their backs. Eris was still unconscious but had been tied anyway, with her arms wrapped around her chest to prevent her using her telekinesis. It was only a few minutes before Dukat arrived.

"Hello Weyoun," he said, smiling. The Vorta began to shake. "I've missed all the fun we used to have." He strode forward and Weyoun found himself paralyzed, frozen to the spot. The Cardassian grabbed him roughly and pulled him from the cell.

* * *

"Did you think you were clever, staying behind on Terak Nor?" Dukat shoved the small Vorta into an empty room, knocking him to the floor with the force of his push. "You can't escape me." Weyoun stared up at the much larger alien, violet eyes wide and terrified. His breath was coming too fast yet he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs. This was supposed to be over! The Cardassian crouched down in front of him. "If you think the things I did to you before were bad…" He left the threat unfinished, touching the Vorta's face with mock gentleness. Weyoun flinched away and he slapped him in response. "Stand," Dukat ordered. He snarled when the Vorta instead shrank from him. "Stand!" he repeated, rising to his full height.

Nervously, still shaking, Weyoun stood. Dukat circled him, predator-like. Taking a knife from his belt he carefully cut away the clone's clothing. The former ambassador stared down at the ground as the Cardassian leisurely examined his body. "Look at me!" Dukat ordered, laughing when the Vorta obeyed. Still smiling, he pressed the tip of the knife into the other man's chest, just deep enough to draw blood and, holding him still with his free hand, pulled the blade through the flesh. He barred his teeth, a look of rapt pleasure on his face, before gripping Weyoun by the hair and dragging him across the room. Then, bending the Vorta over the back of a hard chair, Dukat tugged open his own trousers and, without further preamble, thrust into him.

* * *

Many hours passed, Dukat alternating between sexual assault, intimidation and physical abuse. When he finally threw Weyoun his ruined clothing the small Vorta was too deeply sunken into shock to know what to do with them. With a growl of frustration the Cardassian dressed him haphazardly and forced him to his feet. Marching him back to the cell where his companions waited he tossed him inside. "See you tomorrow," Dukat said with a wicked grin.

* * *

Lying crumpled on the floor, Weyoun did not attempt to rise on hearing the door slam. Instead he simply curled in on himself and tried not to sob. Distantly, he was aware of Keevan speaking but trying to make sense of the words seemed in that moment too difficult. Some time – an hour or more – passed before he felt composed enough to sit up.

Keevan was sitting a short distance away, watching him intently. He looked terrified. "I was afraid to touch you," he said.

"It's ok," Weyoun replied.

Keevan shuffled forward so they were sitting side by side. Weyoun's head dropped to the side to rest on his shoulder. "We're going to die," said the younger Vorta after a few minutes had passed.

"I know."

* * *

They were still sitting in the same position when Dukat returned a few hours later. "How sweet," he said with a sarcastic smile, then pulled Weyoun to his feet and dragged him from the room.

A short time later the Vorta found himself pressed up against a bulkhead, shredded clothes once more discarded, as Dukat roughly groped between his legs. "Why… are you doing… this?" he gasped, tears streaming steadily from his pale eyes.

Dukat laughed as he forced three fingers into the other man's body. "Because I despise you Weyoun," he said, "and because I can." The former diplomat tried to look away, squeezing his eyes shut when he could not turn his head far enough. "Look at me!" the Cardassian ordered, enforcing the command with a harsh slap. So Weyoun watched, eyes wide and despairing as Dukat bit repeatedly into his chest, neck and shoulders, each time hard enough to draw blood and all the while moving his hand within the smaller man's body, stretching and tearing.

When Dukat tired of assaulting the Vorta in that way he forced him to kneel and fucked his mouth. Ejaculating down his throat, he shoved Weyoun to the ground and started to kick him, over and over, in the stomach. He only stopped when the slight alien had vomited up the semen he'd forced him to swallow. He pushed the Vorta's face into the mess. "Lick it up," he instructed, kicking him again when he shook his head in refusal.

"Fine then," said Dukat, suddenly calm. Then, placing one foot on the small of the Vorta's back to hold him down, he grabbed Weyoun's shackled wrists and forced them upwards. He didn't hurry but that only made the pain worse as the shoulders were slowly, ever so slowly, pulled from their sockets. He was screaming long before dislocation finally occurred.

* * *

Dukat was thrusting hard into the small figure below him, pounding him into the floor when the door chime sounded. "Who is it?" he called with a grunt.

"It's me sir," came Damar's voice from out on the corridor.

With a moan and a final push Dukat came, pulled out from the shaking form beneath him and stood. "Come in," he invited, re-fastening the clasps of his trousers. Damar entered but found himself frozen in shock by the sight of Weyoun. His skin was a lattice work of cuts, both his eyes were swollen shut from bruising and there were obvious broken bones. This was far beyond any of the 'games' they used to play with the Vorta. Seeing this made him fear for his commander's sanity.

"Was there something you wanted?" Dukat asked, still fussing with his uniform.

"Yes, I," Damar tore his gaze away from the broken body on the floor, "I came to tell you that we're approaching Cardassia."

Dukat sighed. Bending down, he tangled his fingers in Weyoun's hair and forced the Vorta to his feet. "You know," he told the clone, "I'm almost sorry you're going to be executed." He tossed him to Damar. "Dress him and put him back with the others," he instructed. "I'll talk to the Founder."

* * *

Eris had regained consciousness in the time Weyoun had been gone. She stared in shock when the other Vorta was led back to the cell and she saw the condition he was in. "What did they do to you?" she asked.

Sinking to his knees as soon as the door was closed he didn't answer. Instead he said, "We're at Cardassia."

He could hear Eris drawing a breath to try and steady herself. "So this is it," she said.

Weyoun nodded, then winced when he motion brought pain. "There are things you should know," he said, "before…" He shifted slightly and cried out at a sudden unexpected pain.

"Lie down against me," Keevan offered. "I can tell her."

Gratefully Weyoun rested his head in the other clone's lap and listened to him tell of the terrible thing the Changelings had done to their species.

* * *

Eris didn't want to believe what Keevan told her. _'The Founders are Gods!'_ shouted a harsh voice inside her mind. Yet when he spoke of the electric shocks suddenly all she could think of were the two tiny, faint scars on her temples and deep down she knew it was the truth.

A group of Cardassians arrived a short time later, dragged them to their feet led them along the corridors to a transporter room. Weyoun was limping heavily, his right ankle quite clearly broken.

Transporting down to the planet's surface, the Cardassian guards were replaced by Jemhadarr. They walked faster – or rather marched – pushing the Vorta along in front of them. Weyoun couldn't move quickly enough, resulting in several blows before the First simply lifted him one-handed and carried him the rest of the way.

Their destination, it seemed, was an empty laboratory. Keevan and Eris stood very close together as they stared with frightened eyes into the stark white room. Weyoun was struggling to remain conscious. The Jemhadarr's grip on his damaged shoulder was unbearably painful yet, if this was to be the end, he wanted to be aware for it. After what seemed an eternity he was dumped on the floor. Gasping he looked up. Through swollen eyes he could just make out the form of a Changeling entering from the far side of the room.

Eris had to fight the urge to bow when the female founder appeared, again when a second Changeling followed a few moments later.

"You are all traitors," announced the female founder.

"We're not," Weyoun said. He could not keep his voice from shaking at the knowledge that he was interrupting her but the words were clear none-the-less. "We were never yours. It was just an illusion."

"On the contrary," she said, glaring at the injured clone, "you were ours. The other two, perhaps not but you Weyoun served us faithfully for lifetimes. Had the Cardassian not placed more strain on you than your fragile solid mind could take, you would serve us still. Regardless, you will serve us again, in a new capacity."

"Her first," the other, male, Changeling abruptly said, pointing towards Eris. The painfully blunt nature of his speech made it clear that he had spent little time in humanoid form.

"Yes," agreed the female Founder. She motioned for one of the Jemhadarr to place the pregnant Vorta on a strange backward-facing chair. The male Changeling followed and emotionlessly forced her head down into a clamp, which upon tightening prevented even the slightest movement. The Changeling picked up a laser scalpel and burnt a small hole into her skull, right at her temple. She would have screamed if she could have opened her mouth. Three more such holes were bored, one at the opposite temple and two further back behind the ears, for which patches of her hair first had to be sheared away. Next an incision was made down the nape of her neck. Her bound hands clenched in pain and her feet scrabbled against the ground as the incision was widened. As her termination implant was carefully removed she finally passed out.

Weyoun watched as the gaping wound in the back of her neck was sealed and a bulky collar fitted. Four cables hung off it. One by one they were fitted into the holes made in her skull. There was a click and then a hiss as they fused to the bone. The clamp around her head was released. The ties around her wrists were removed along with her clothing and she was moved into a cage six feet by four. It was too low to permit standing. A Jemhadarr grabbed Keevan and shoved him into the chair. He struggled as his head was locked down but stood no chance of escape. There were no holes made in his skull and no collar but his termination implant was still taken out. As with Eris, he lost consciousness the instant it was removed. He too was stripped and placed with her in the cage.

"It's already gone," Weyoun said when the Jemhadarr pulled him to his feet. A quick examination confirmed this and - forgoing the surgery - he was stripped and thrown into the cage.

* * *

Eris woke to pain and confusion. Her head was pounding and she was lying on something hard and cold that dug into her skin. She pushed herself up to sitting, biting back the wave of nausea the movement caused. Nausea… Her hands shot to her abdomen, searching for some sign of the small life within. There, a flutter. She sighed in relief.

"Eris, are you okay?"

For the first time she noticed that she was not alone.

"Eris?" Weyoun repeated. Keevan was still unconscious. Both were naked, as she was.

The disorientation was starting to pass. She blinked, taking in the extent of the damage Dukat had inflicted. "Your shoulders are dislocated," she said.

"I know."

"I can fix them if you want."

He nodded assent.

Getting the bones back into their correct position hurt but not half as much when Dukat had forced them out. "Thank you," he said when Eris was done. Keevan was starting to wake. Weyoun petted his hair in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

* * *

The male Changeling came regularly. He would take one of them from the cage, attach sensors to their skulls and inject them with chemicals. The injections hurt; sometimes so much that they brought unconsciousness. An injection of stimulants would quickly return awareness.

Eris was afraid; for herself, for her companions and for her baby. She tried to be strong but she knew that unless something drastic was to happen they would all die in that place.

Keevan withdrew into himself and rarely spoke.

Weyoun stared out from behind frightened eyes and started at unexpected sounds.

All three of them would huddle together in the cage, for warmth and some attempt at comfort.

The baby within Eris grew and her stomach swelled. She remembered the man, her lover and the gentle pressure of his hands moving over her body but not his name or his face. The Founder's 'tests' were effecting her memory. The baby was alive though. The baby was alive. When the Vorta were left alone in the laboratory Weyoun would hold a hand to her stomach and smile in wonder as he felt the small life move inside her.

* * *

Three months passed. Then one day the female Founder entered the lab along with the male 'scientist'. Eris was taken from the cage and strapped down on a metal table. Using a surgical laser, her abdomen was sliced open. She screamed with pain and tried to pull away but the restraints held her tightly. There was virtually no blood; the laser cauterizing as it cut. Skin and surface muscle was pulled back and held out of the way with heavy clamps, exposing her enlarged uterus. Another cut with the laser and this too was cut open. The baby, a little girl, was too small, with an overlarge head and skinny limbs, not yet ready to enter the world. Still she cried out as she was pulled out into the cold air. Eris begged them to give her the child, fighting uselessly to free herself. She was ignored. The tiny infant was placed on a second table, carefully examined and then dissected. When the weak cries finally ceased Eris stopped fighting. Her baby was dead. Her body limp against the cold metal, she cried silently.

* * *

When the Founders had finished with the corpse of the infant they sealed the incisions in Eris's belly and returned her to the cage. Only a long red scar and dark bruising remained to show that her child had ever existed. The instant the door was locked the other Vorta were beside her, holding her, trying to somehow help her with their proximity. She cried hopelessly, breath coming in ragged gasps, and wondered if she could die from sorrow.


	8. Chapter 7: Survival

Here's the next chapter. I hope people enjoy it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, especially the person who left the really long and honest review. That made me very happy.

This chapter focuses mostly on Eris because she's driving a lot of the events in it.

**Warnings:** torture, implied rape, violence, mild gore

* * *

**Chapter 7: Survival**

Eris did not die. Three more months passed, filled with pain and fear. None of the Vorta spoke much anymore. They simply sat, waiting for the torture to begin and doing their best to comfort each other when it was over. There was nothing else they could do.

One day no one entered the laboratory and they were glad. They gripped each other's hands tightly as distant explosions shook the ground. By the second day they started to get thirsty. On the third – with much noise and sparks – the door opened. A group of half a dozen Cardassians entered.

"Will you look at this!" exclaimed one. Keevan flinched at the sound.

A face pressed against the bars of the cage. "What do you think they were doing with them?"

"Who knows? Hey look!" he pointed at Weyoun. "I remember that one; slimy little rat." He rattled the bars and laughed when the Vorta flinched.

"What should we do about them?"

"Lock them up. They might know something."

* * *

They were pulled from their cage and led through what seemed like a maze of corridors. They weren't used to walking and Weyoun's ankle hadn't healed right, leaving the foot twisted awkwardly. Every time one of them stumbled their guards would hit them and, shouting insults, force them forward. Finally they were thrown into a cell. The light was red and the walls and floor were stone. The door was metal and it shut with a loud clang. A while later three red tunics were tossed inside.

* * *

Repeated interrogations followed their removal from the laboratory. They were taken to a dark room – sometimes all together, sometimes individually. A tall Cardassian asked questions and hurt them if they failed to give the answers he desired.

He wanted to know if the Dominion's surrender was genuine, what the Founder's plans were and a half-dozen other things the Vorta did not know.

About the only question Eris was able to answer was what the collar locked around her neck was for. She told them it was a telepathic suppressor and almost laughed when she remembered the fake she had worn years before.

* * *

For weeks the interrogations were almost constant. Then, abruptly, they stopped. The pain however did not; it simply came in another form. Men would come to the cell, usually two or three at a time. They asked no questions but instead laughed as they beat them. Sometimes they brought knives or whips, used those. Sometimes they stripped off their clothes, hurt them in a different way.

Eris tried to think of the man whose face she could not remember, the man with whom she had conceived a child. It didn't help.

For a long time their days were made up of long stretches of hunger, fear and cold comfort as they held each other in the dark cell and waited. Then their jailers would arrive and the pain would start up again. It grew hard to recall that their lives had ever been different, that there was a universe beyond the stone walls of their prison.

* * *

They had been prisoners of the Cardassians for almost a year when Eris began to feel a new life move inside her. Terror gripped her at the realization of what this meant. She would have another baby and it would die screaming in agony just like the first.

At that thought, a fierce determination rose up inside the young Vorta. She would save _this_ child.

* * *

It was two weeks before Eris had an opportunity to act.

The guards were 'playing'. Weyoun was their chosen victim that day. The Cardassians took particular pleasure in tormenting the former ambassador of the Dominion. At that moment they had him pinned against a wall, unable to pull away as the glowing tip of an engineering tool was pressed again and again into his skin. Strangled gasps and whimpers escaped his lips as the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

The other two Vorta sat huddled in a corner. Keevan had his eyes squeezed shut and his arms wrapped around his head as though he could block out what was happening. Eris though, did not look away. If she had, she would never have noticed the knife lying discarded on the floor. The blade was curved and jagged, dully reflecting the crimson light. It was just a step behind the guards. Silently Eris edged forward. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was sure that at any moment the Cardassians would notice her. Then they would beat her. She was terrified that a blow to the stomach might kill her child. She was so close now though, just a little closer and she'd be able to reach it. There! Her small, thin fingers closed around the handle of the knife. She resisted the urge to snatch it up for fear the blade would scrape against the stone floor, alerting the guards. Instead she lifted it slowly and carefully, cradling it to her chest as she retreated back to the darkened corner.

Later, when they were alone again, Eris showed her two companions the knife. Weyoun was trembling violently in the aftermath of the torture, Keevan hugging him with thin bruised arms but looking at Eris, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Don't you understand?" she asked. "We can use this to escape."

Keevan stared and said nothing but Weyoun shakily reached out to touch the blade. There was still some of his blood on it, dry now. "Do you have a plan?" he asked.

* * *

Food came erratically but was always delivered by a single guard. Eris sat by the door, knife hidden in the shadows just behind her, and waited, listening for a single set of footsteps. When finally she heard the tell-tale footfalls she grabbed the knife, barely able to hold it in shaking hand. Her heart was pounding as she stood.

The door opened and she didn't think as she plunged the blade into the Cardassian's throat.

Blood gushed out as the guard fell gasping to the floor. He was dead within moments. The young Vorta stood staring at the body. She was shaking again, not with fear this time but with sudden impossible rage. Before she knew what she was doing she brought the knife down into the chest of the corpse, stabbing him again and again. She didn't know how many times. Then Weyoun was pulling her back, fright and panic in his eyes as he dragged her away from where the body now lay in a wide pool of blood. He lost his balance and fell when his damaged leg gave way but it was enough. The moment of insanity had passed. There was blood dripping from the blade to plip-plip-plop on the floor.

Hurriedly Weyoun searched the dead Cardassian, finding a disrupter, keys and a second knife. From what seemed a great distance Eris noticed that he too was now covered in blood.

Keevan had sat stock-still and staring throughout everything but now Weyoun was getting him to stand and then all three of them were running and stumbling through the dim corridors of their prison.

They saw no one and found a door, more by luck than anything else. Then they were outside.

* * *

Cardassia did not look as Weyoun remembered it. The sky was grey and the air filled with dust. The military bunker from which they had just emerged was the only building in sight that was still standing. From one horizon to the next was a wasteland of rubble and bone. There was no time to stop and wonder how this had come to be. Escape was all that mattered then, freedom from their tormentors. They clambered out into the devastated landscape, stopping only when they were too exhausted to go any farther. They slept that night in the small triangular space made where one wall had collapsed into another.

Eris's hands wouldn't stop shaking. Dozens of wounds stung her skin and her body ached. She was still covered in blood and wanted it **off** but within her abdomen she could feel her child moving. She could feel its tiny heart beating. It was alive and now it had a chance to stay that way.

Weyoun wrapped his arms around her. There was half-dry blood all over him too yet she didn't pull away. She could feel his warmth against her. Keevan scrunched closer, grasping one of her hands though his gaze remained fixed on the entrance to their hiding place. He was warm too. She closed her eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	9. Chapter 8: What's Left Behind

Here's the next part. Hope people enjoy it :)

No major warnings on this part. It's a bit short as I was originally going to combine it with the next part but decided it was better seperate.

Thanks to Klytia for the review!

* * *

The computer blipped to announce an incoming subspace transmission. Julian smiled when he saw who calling and quickly accepted. "Hello Garak," he said. "What can I do for you?"

The Cardassian faked a hurt look. "Can I not call a friend simply for the sake of it?" he asked.

"No," the doctor replied but he was still smiling. "You always have an agenda, usually on top of another agenda, layers of them in fact."

Garak grinned widely. "You know me too well doctor." His face turned serious. "As you know, Cardassia was devastated by the Dominion War," he said. "There are some areas still in ruins. Just recently reconstruction began on a small island in the Southern Hemisphere. The workers have discovered something quite unexpected there. I wonder if you would like to visit in order to discuss things further?"

* * *

Julian smoothed his clothes, rumpled from travel, as he was brought from the spaceport to see Garak. His guide was a young Cardassian woman. As she led him through the streets he saw signs everywhere of the damage wrought by the war. This was the capital city. It had to be worse elsewhere. His thoughts were interrupted when he caught sight of the former spy and tailor, now leader of Cardassia; Elim Garak. He smiled broadly upon seeing the Cardassian. The expression was returned as Garak noticed Julian and quickly moved to meet him.

Bashir did not expect the sudden firm embrace. "How have you been my dear doctor?" Garak asked as he stepped back.

"It took me three days to get here," Julian replied, voice more casual than he felt. "I hope it's worth it." Garak motioned for him to go inside, leading him to an empty room.

"These holo-images were taken by the reconstruction crew I mentioned," Garak said as he took a small display unit from his pocket and activated it. The images were poor quality and clearly taken from a considerable distance. Each showed either one or two ghostly figures in a landscape of rubble. Often they seemed startled, in the process of dashing into cover.

"Are those _Vorta_?" Julian asked, squinting as though he could somehow force the grainy images to come into focus.

"Yes, I believe so. I did some research before I asked you here. There was a military base on that island. In the last days of the war three Vorta were captured and held there only to later escape. Their names were recorded; Weyoun, Keevan and Eris."

"So they found her…" Julian said. He felt stunned and rather numb. "I was sure they were all long dead, everyone was."

"It seems at least two are still alive, perhaps all three."

"Why haven't the reconstruction crew tried to talk with them?"

"Oh they have. The slightest sound and they run, disappear through gaps in the rubble too small for a Cardassian to follow. The workers haven't been able to get anywhere near them."

"Why… why are they running?" Julian asked, perplexed. "Surely they know they need help." Even with the poor quality of the images Bashir had seen it had been obvious that the Vorta were disturbingly thin.

"My dear doctor…" Garak paused, trying to find a way to explain this while sparing the human the grisly details. "The military base was the only structure on the island to survive. The guards working in that base would have lost family and friends, murdered by the Dominion. Vorta, if you will recall are the representatives of the Dominion. They were held long after the war had ended. I for one cannot claim surprise that they are afraid of Cardassians."

Julian paled when he realized what the other man was suggesting. "Do you know what happened to them?" he asked.

"No." A lie. "But my people have an aptitude for cruelty." The truth, unfortunately.

* * *

Julian decided it would be best to search at night, when hopefully the Vorta would be sleeping and so less likely to run. With the aid of a tricorder it was easy enough to pinpoint their location. Actually getting there however was far from easy. Moving through the rubble was like trying to negotiate a never ending obstacle course, the satchel slung over his shoulders slapping against his thigh. He was getting closer though, despite how long it was taking. The beam of his flashlight briefly lit the bleached bones of a skeleton as he climbed past it and down into a drainage pipe. The going down here was a bit easier he thought as he made his way through more tunnels and along narrow passageways in the rubble. It occurred to him that most people would be hopelessly lost by now and he was glad for once of his genetically enhanced brain. He squeezed through a half-collapsed doorway and suddenly, there they were. Somehow he hadn't really expected to find them.

The Vorta were in what had once been a ground floor room, now buried beneath rubble and partially collapsed. A few mismatched candles cast a dim light. By the far wall scraps of foam and fabric had been piled up to make a sort of bed. Beneath the ragged blankets Bashir could see two sleeping forms. A third was sitting bolt upright, pointing a disrupter at him.

"Weyoun?"

The Vorta flinched. The others were awake now.

"Weyoun, it's Julian Bashir. You know me, from DS9 remember? I'm not going to hurt you. Can you put down the gun?"

The weapon was held together with tape and the clone's hands were shaking but at this range it would be difficult to miss. Wide purple eyes stared up at him as Weyoun struggled to remember his life before coming to Cardassia.

Disjointed scenes and sensations flooded the Vorta's mind. He gasped and gripped the disrupter tighter. Remembered pain and fear threatened to consume him but he forced himself to keep trying. The injections in the Founder's lab had done something, put up blocks in his mind. It hurt to push through them. He remembered Dukat, slamming him down face first into a table. He remembered a child, crying in a white room. He remembered staring out a viewport for hours on end, drowning in loneliness, pain and confusion. He remembered Damar pushing his head down onto the hot flesh that stretched his mouth wide, choking and suffocating him. He started to cry. He remembered the dead husk of a murdered planet, stolen children floating in stasis tubes, the Founders smiling as they lied, Dukat happily breaking his fingers one by one, only to heal them and do it all over again.

"Weyoun, it's okay. You're safe." Bashir was crouching in front of him, didn't seem to care that his face was now level with the disrupter. That was when the Vorta remembered him; saving him when he'd tried to end his own life, kind though he'd had no reason to be. Slowly, Weyoun set the disrupter down.

The threat of being shot now gone, Julian was able to focus his attention on the other occupants of the room. Keevan was clearly terrified, backed up against the wall, hugging his knees tight to his chest. Eris watched him with suspicious violet eyes. There were wires going into her skull. He looked more closely. That was when he noticed the tiny form clasped in her arms.

"Is that…?" he started but then stopped, unsure what he meant to say. Now it was clear why the holo-images had only ever showed at most two of the Vorta. They couldn't have left an infant unattended.

The baby wriggled in Eris' grip, twisting around to see what was going on. Julian tried not to stare. Its ears were Vorta and its skin snow white but the spoon shaped marking on its forehead and the barely-there neck ridges marked the child as half Cardassian.

"Why are you here?" the female Vorta asked after what seemed an eternity.

"I… I came to help you, to take you back to Deep Space Nine."

Eris looked across to Weyoun.

"I trust him," said the clone before abruptly turning away to crawl across the bed to Keevan. He wrapped his arms around the cowering man who grasped him tightly in return. Despite Weyoun's reassurances however he would not look up at Julian.

Bashir was uncomfortable. Eris was still staring at him suspiciously. He wasn't qualified to deal with people hurt like this. Garak had called him here though. He hadn't done that just because they were friends; he wasn't that sentimental. He'd called Julian because he thought he was the person most suited to the task at hand. He could do this. "I have signal enhancers in my bag," he said. "I can beam us straight to my shuttle. Alright?"

"Okay," Eris agreed after a moment.

Julian set up the boosters. "Is there anything you want to bring?" he asked when he was done. A few items were gathered and Bashir dutifully packed them in his satchel. They fitted easily. Most of them looked like rubbish. He kept that thought to himself, not wanting to offend the small aliens and instead simply asked if that was everything. Weyoun nodded. Julian activated the remote transport.


	10. Chapter 9: Through The Fire

I'm really sorry I took so long to update this. I'm also sorry that this chapter ends on a cliff-hanger. I'm not trying to torture my readers honestly. I hope people enjoy this, the story's nearly over and the next chapter will probably be the final one.

WARNINGS: torture, sexual assault, violence, mentions of rape, aftermath of experiments on sentients, aftermath of torture, one bad word

Thank you Klytia for the awesome long review. This chapter's dedicated to you.

**Chapter 9: Through The Fire**

There were only two chairs in the shuttle so Bashir laid some blankets on the floor for extra seating. He asked the Vorta if they wanted anything to eat and Weyoun uncertainly suggested berries. Fruit was hardly the most nourishing thing Julian could think of but he was pleased Weyoun felt comfortable enough around him to ask for something. He replicated a large bowl of mixed berries and several bottles of water.

While they were eating he put in a call to Garak.

He had to wait a while before receiving an answer but then there was Garak, smiling calmly at him through the screen. "Hello Doctor," greeted the Cardassian.

"I found them," Julian said.

"All three?"

"Plus a baby."

"A baby?"

"Half Cardassian."

"That is… unfortunate. How are they?"

"Not great," Julian admitted. "I'm going to bring them straight to DS9."

It was at this point that Eris came over to investigate, having left the others sitting on the pile of blankets. She stepped into view as –squinting– she tried to make out the face on the screen. Her hair was matted and her face was too thin. Wires from the suppression collar still pierced her skull. Her clothes were ragged and far too large. Where the neckline of her top dropped down over one shoulder the thick pink scars of whip lashes were clearly visible.

Garak frowned. Looking at the female Vorta he told her, "I would like to offer my personal apology for what was done to you and your companions."

Eris stared blankly at the screen for a moment before silently returning to sit with the other Vorta.

* * *

The ship set on auto-pilot as traveled away from Cardassian space, Bashir suggested he check everyone over in his capacity as a doctor. Eris held her child tightly to her chest, clearly unwilling to let go. She was terrified and Julian wondered what he had said wrong.

"It's alright," Weyoun assured her. "It doesn't hurt. I'll go first." He stood somewhat awkwardly and Julian gestured for him to have a seat in the co-pilot's chair. A quick scan with a medical tricorder showed he was malnourished (though you only needed eyes to see that). It also showed innumerable old wounds that had never received medical treatment. They told a story of appalling violence and cruelty. "Are you in pain?" the doctor asked.

"Some," Weyoun replied.

"I'll give you an analgesic," Bashir said. The damage done to the clone's body certainly could not be healed on a shuttlecraft, if anything could be done at all after it had been left so long.

"Thank you."

Julian administered the hypo-spray. "Is that that better?" he asked.

"No effect I'm afraid," Weyoun answered, his expression apologetic.

Frowning, Julian scanned him again. He swore. "It looks like the genetically engineered immunity to poisons interferes with other foreign substances too. I'm really sorry but I don't think any of the drugs I have here are going to work. At least it seems to have stopped any of you from getting infections."

"Don't worry doctor, we'll survive."

They would, wouldn't they, realized Bashir. These small, fragile looking aliens had lived through hell and gotten themselves out.

Eris volunteered to be examined next. The collar – wired into her brain – worried and disgusted Julian in equal measure. Its removal however was something that would have to wait till they were back at DS9.

A scan revealed that her abdomen had been cut open some three years previously and a caesarian section performed. He didn't ask what had happened to that child, knew he wouldn't like the answer.

The surviving baby was a boy, a year and a half old and, aside from being underweight, was in good health. He sat on Eris's knee, giggling as he tried to grab the tricorder. "What's his name?" Julian asked.

"Akio," the female Vorta told him.

"Hello Akio," Julian said with a smile.

"Ello!" replied the young child.

Bashir was glad someone at least was doing ok. Keevan was not so well. He was probably in the best shape physically of the three adults but he wasn't talking and he flinched at any loud noise or sudden movement.

Three days and they would be at Deep Space Nine. Julian had never been gladder Ezri had been added to the station's staff. That thought made him feel guilty. He was great at healing physical wounds, not so much psychological ones.

* * *

They'd traveling half a day when phaser fire forced the shuttle out of warp. There was instant chaos as everything and everyone was thrown about the cabin. Akio was crying. Dazed, Julian pulled himself back into his seat.

"What's happening?" Weyoun shouted over the screeching alarms.

"Someone shot at us!" Julian yelled back as he took in the old-style Cardassian Cruiser located by the scanners. Quickly raising the shields he hailed the attacking vessel. Dimly he was aware of Weyoun getting into the other seat. The hail was answered, response coming through. With a shower of sparks the view-screen activated and there was Dukat.

The former Gul was smiling widely, as though at any moment he might break into laughter. Behind him, on a ramshackle bridge, stood several Cardassians and surprisingly also some Bajorans. All were dressed in civilian clothes. Julian started to say something but before he could even begin Weyoun disappeared in the glow of a transporter beam and three heavily armed men materialized on the shuttle.

"You just wait there doctor," said Dukat's image on the view-screen. "We'll talk later." The screen went blank.

* * *

Weyoun found himself in an unfamiliar transporter room. Before he had a chance to take in his surroundings scaled hands grabbed his arms and held him in place. He panicked and instantly tried to pull away. It took no effort at all however to keep him from escaping. His captor was more than a head taller than him and four times his weight.

Dukat laughed when he entered the room and saw the Vorta's futile attempts to get away. "With me," the former Gul ordered, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him from the room. A moment later he found himself tossed into unknown quarters. Hitting a wall he fell to the floor.

Dukat started to strip, pausing when he realized that what he had taken for sobbing was in fact soft laughter. Weyoun was laughing at him. "Have you lost your mind?" he demanded, enraged.

The Vorta shook his head. "I remember you Dukat," he said. He was crying, visibly trembling but still laughing. "You're pathetic." Strong hands shot out to encircle his neck as the Cardassian snarled, pinning him to the wall.

"Say that again," Dukat threatened.

"You have to –" he started, gasping as the grip on his throat tightened. "You have to abuse someone half your size just to feel powerful." A sudden shove knocked his skull against the wall and left him seeing stars. "See?" he said and laughed again, tears streaking his face. Dukat kicked him until he heard ribs break.

* * *

Back on the shuttle Julian was studying their 'guards', sizing them up. Two were Cardassian, one Bajoran. Funny how a crazed cultish figure could get the two races to work together when the best diplomats in the Federation couldn't.

Julian knew about Dukat's little group. They claimed they were revolutionaries. In practice they were no more than pirates, attacking small vessels as they passed through Cardassian space.

"Why are you working for him?" Bashir asked, targeting the Bajoran.

"Dukat is ushering in a new age for both our races," the man replied. "Now shut up."

* * *

"You know Weyoun," Dukat said as he cut abstract patterns into the Vorta's exposed chest, "I think I'm going to keep you. I've missed hearing you scream."

* * *

Julian kept talking. One of Dukat's men smacked him in the head with the butt of his disrupter. Akio started to cry, loud, piercing frightened wails. Eris clutched him tightly, trying to hide the infant behind skinny arms while Keevan huddled in beside her trying to help and made frantic shushing noises.

"I didn't think Vorta could have children," said the Bajoran.

"Let me see it," ordered one of the others.

"No." Eris hissed, tightening her grip. "I won't let you hurt him."

"I just want to see," the Cardassian repeated, reaching down and tugging Akio from his mother's grasp. Two disrupters were instantly trained on her when she jumped up and made to snatch him back.

The man holding the baby stared in shock at the small form in his hands. "He's half-Cardassian."

All three of Dukat's men were now looking at Akio. "One guess how that happened," Julian said as he pushed himself up from where he'd been knocked to the floor, a gash at his hairline dripping blood. Turning to look at the Bajoran again, he asked, "There's a lot of half-Cardassian children on your world, isn't there?"

* * *

Dukat's hands were pulling down Weyoun's trousers, cold and hard against pale skin.

"Do you think your friends would like to come too? We could all have fun together. I'd probably have to get rid of them eventually but not you. I'm definitely keeping you little Vorta."

Hands were touching him, leaving bruises in their wake.

"You're mine. Though I can tell someone else has been having fun with you." Cold fingers traced some of the innumerable scars on the smaller man's body. "I'm guessing it was after the 'Founders' were done with you. Whips and hot iron doesn't seem their style and I'm sure they don't know Cardassian glyphs." He touched a symbol carved into the small of the Vorta's back. "This one means 'whore', did you know that?"

Hands were touching him, fingers pushing inside.

"You're so unresponsive! I'd have thought in getting this," he tapped the glyph again, "you'd have learnt some skills." Roughly, he pulled his fingers from the smaller man's body, turned him so they were face to face. "Why don't you show me what you've learnt Weyoun?"

Learnt… yes. Looking up at Dukat, he snaked his arms around the grey torso before him. Dukat began to laugh. Weyoun held his gaze as one thin hand traced the contours of his scales and the other drifted down to his belt, to the scabbard that held the still bloody knife.

Learnt… he'd learnt a lot since the last time he'd seen Dukat.

He'd learnt the Founders hated their followers.

He'd learnt that a touch could bring comfort as well as fear.

He'd learnt the universe was not fair.

He'd learnt that his species were esthetically pleasing to Cardassians.

He'd learnt that begging and screaming never stopped the pain.

Most importantly though, he had learnt that with a sharp blade and enough desperation a Vorta _could_ take on a Cardassian. Dukat gasped as the knife sank into his abdomen.

* * *

"The Occupation is over," the Bajoran follower was saying. "Dukat is trying to bring our two people together now. How is bringing up the atrocities of the past going to help?"

"You know Dukat has a half Bajoran daughter, don't you?"

* * *

Dukat stared in shocked disbelief at the weapon buried to the hilt in his flesh. His mouth started to form a question but then his legs collapsed and only a gasp escaped his lips. Weyoun was still shaking, still crying, as he had been since they entered the Cardassian's quarters, but he was standing and Dukat was on the floor. The Vorta was backing away until he was pressed against the opposite wall. His violet eyes were huge and staring. There was very little blood, the knife plugging the track of the wound. Dazed, Dukat tried to pull it out. There was the blood, though he barely noticed it through the rush of pain. He gasped again as blackness closed in.


	11. Chapter 10: Scars Tell Us We Survived

Only the epilogue left after this. Sorry I'm so slow at writing this story.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Scars Tell Us We Survived**

* * *

Eris – her child returned to her – was clutching him tightly and glaring daggers at the three armed men. The atmosphere in the shuttle was tense when one of the Cardassians' comm-badges beeped. "Glek," said a female voice, urgent and clipped, "we're beaming you guys back."

"What?" he instantly replied. "What about the prisoners?"

"Forget about them, we're under attack!" A moment later Dukat's three men disappeared in the glow of a transporter. Julian ran to the pilots console and hurried to get the view screen activated. Damage to the sensors caused the image to flicker but he could see a vessel from the Cardassian fleet battling Dukat's ship. Finding the comm-systems still intact he tried to hail their new allies. The only response was a command to stand by.

* * *

Weyoun was crying and couldn't stop. Hiding in a darkened corner of Dukat's quarters he felt like he was suffocating, like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. 'So this is what going insane feels like,' observed some calm portion of his mind. He started to laugh and then to cry harder than before.

The lights had flickered out and the glow from the computer terminal made strange shadows on his skin. Vaguely he remembered holding his face a hair's-breadth from the screen, trying to make out the blurred, mostly unknown Cardassian characters, pressing keys and hoping they were the right ones to send a distress signal. Another blast of weapon's fire rocked the ship. He must have done _something_ at least… He laughed and cried and smacked his head against the wall and wanted this to **end**.

* * *

Some time had passed. The weapon's fire had stopped. Weyoun heard the doors slide open and squeezed his eyes shut, covered his ears with his hands and tried to block out the world. A few words slipped unwanted into his awareness.

"…medical team…"

"…critical…"

"…surgery…"

"…who?..."

There was silence. He liked silence. A scaled hand touched his bare arm. He screamed and thrashed and the hand withdrew. He curled into a tight ball and tried to force breath into his lungs.

* * *

It seemed an eternity before the Cardassian vessel finally deigned to answer their hails. A Gul appeared on the screen. Behind him, rather than the bridge of a starship, was what looked like personal quarters. He looked with interest at the two Vorta before addressing Dr. Bashir. "Federation shuttle," he said, "the pirate vessel has been disabled and the criminal Skrain Dukat apprehended. I offer you assistance on behalf of the Cardassian Union." Formalities over, his tone became softer, his eyes more intense. "Would I be correct in assuming," he asked, "that the Vorta we found here came from your vessel?"

"Yes," said Julian quickly. "Is he alright?"

The Gul glanced off-screen. "He's alive," he said, "but no, he is definitely not alright. May we beam you over?"

"Yes, of course."

A moment later the transport started and Julian realized the Gul had meant _all_ of them.

* * *

They materialized in what were indeed sleeping quarters. Judging by their size and that of the ship Julian guessed they were Dukat's. The only illumination was from emergency lights and handheld sources. The Gul and two of his officers were standing a short distance away. Checking on his companions, the doctor saw that – as he'd feared – they were panicking. Eris was tense, holding her child tightly as she backed up into the wall, while Keevan was shaking and slowly sinking to the floor.

"It's okay," Julian said, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. "It's okay; they're not going to hurt you."

The words seemed to have little effect but at then Bashir noticed Weyoun and at that point he had to be the priority. He was naked, curled into a tight ball on the floor. Even in the dim light blood and bruises were evident on his pale skin.

"He won't let anyone near him," said the Gul. "One of the medics tried to sedate him but there was no effect."

Julian nodded, already aware that standard chemical sedation was unlikely to work on Vorta, as he slowly approached the clone. "Weyoun," he said, crouching down, "it's okay; you're safe. Can you sit up for me?" There was no response, no sign that he'd even hear a thing. Julian was at a loss. He needed to see how bad the Vorta's injuries were but was afraid to take any action which might traumatize him further. He looked around and realized Keevan had crawled over to sit beside him. "Weyoun?" the younger clone whispered, his voice tiny, as he reached out, fingers brushing feather-light against the other man's hand. Weyoun flinched but a moment later clasped onto the offered hand. Seconds later they were sobbing and mumbling inaudible words of comfort as they held each other tightly.

Julian watched and didn't interfere. They could calm each other far better than he'd ever be able to. He didn't want to think about how many times this same scene must have played out before. "When they're ready," he said the Gul, "it's probably best if I'm the one to check his injuries." Another Cardassian touching him, even in a clinical setting, was the last thing Weyoun needed at that time.

The Gul nodded agreement. "You can use the medical bay here," he said. "Dukat's being treated on my ship and I suspect it would be a bad idea for them to meet."

"What happened to Dukat?"

The Cardassian laughed. "Your small friend stabbed him. I'm quite impressed."

* * *

When he seemed to have recovered enough to be aware of his surroundings Julian wrapped a thermal blanket around Weyoun's shoulders and the group headed for the med bay. Some of Dukat's men were standing under guard in the main corridor. Julian assumed that there either was no brig or it had been damaged in the battle. The crew were wearing manacles so he wasn't worried about being attacked but he was concerned about how the Vorta might react. Eris and Keevan appeared anxious but did not panic. Weyoun was moving in a daze, too mentally exhausted to even notice their presence. They noticed him though and the cuts and bruises on every part of his pale skin not covered by the thin blanket. Many of them appeared uncomfortable, a few visibly sickened. They reached the medical bay and Julian got Weyoun to sit on one of the beds. His injuries turned out not to be as bad as they could have been. Two broken ribs were the only things that couldn't be healed instantly with a dermal regenerator. He seemed calm. Julian knew it couldn't last. The doctor set about replicating some food for everyone.

"He's still alive, isn't he?" Weyoun asked as Julian handed him his plate.

Bashir did not need to ask who he meant. "Yes," he confirmed, "but you'll never have to see him again. Dukat's committed hundreds of crimes in the last few years even without what he did to you. He's going to spend the rest of his life in prison."

"Will I go to prison," Eris asked as she spooned food into Akio's mouth, "for the guard I killed to escape on Cardassia?"

This was the first Bashir had heard of a dead guard, though Garak must have known, apparently didn't think it important enough to mention. Though he was curious he did not ask for more information. "You're not going to prison," he assured her instead. "Those men were holding you illegally, long after the war ended."

"What will happen to us?"

"That's up to you."

He wasn't sure if the young Vorta believed him or even fully understood that she could now choose what to do with the rest of her life. The closest thing to freedom any of them had known was hiding amongst rubble, struggling to find enough food to survive. Eris kept feeding her child and Julian found it difficult to look away from the bulky collar wired into her brain.

A few hours later they were beamed back to the shuttle to await the Federation ship that would be giving them a ride to DS9. That was when the breakdown occurred. For all that Julian had been expecting it, the speed with which the clone went from superficially fine to anything but was still a shock.

* * *

Weyoun let out a shaky breath when they materialized back in the shuttle. In a way it reminded him of the little collapsed room where they had lived these last two years. It felt far safer than the Cardassian ship. At that point however adrenaline was the only thing holding him together, keeping the hurt and horror at bay. As it drained away his hands started to shake. He half sat, half stumbled onto the pile of blankets Bashir had made. He realized he was crying. When he closed his eyes he could see Dukat's face, hear his words: _'Do you think your friends would like to come too?' _He could still feel the sickening way his flesh gave beneath the knife. 'I wasn't made for this,' he remembered pleading one of the first times the Gul assaulted him. Thin arms wrapped around his shoulders and he leaned into the gentle embrace. Keevan made soft, meaningless sounds more comforting than any words could have been. Eris sat down beside him and took one of his hands. He smiled at her, at the little boy on her knee and cried himself to sleep with relief that it was finally **over**.


	12. Epilogue: Self-Determination

So this story is finally finished! I think this epilogue probably needs a bit of revising but, given how slow I can be at writing I can be, I decided to post it now and fix it up later if necessary.

Edit: fixed the missing dividers.

I hope people are happy with this ending. I do have an idea for a sequel but amn't sure yet if I'll write it or not.

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited or watched this story!

* * *

It had been a week since Julian had brought Weyoun and the others to the station. They were still in the infirmary but no longer looked like the ghosts they had appeared on arrival. Miles realized the baby must be almost the same age as Kirayoshi. He was happily playing with a stuffed toy as he sat on his mother's lap. O'Brien had helped de-activate the device wired into her skull before Julian removed it. The only reminders of its presence were small barely noticeable scars.

"Hello Chief O'Brien," Weyoun said. "Are you looking for Dr. Bashir?" He stood as he spoke, sliding down from the bio-bed where Keevan and Eris were still sitting. They had their own beds (and a cot for Akio) but still invariably ended up squashed together on one. O'Brien was fairly sure Ezri thought it was unhealthy, the way they clung to each other, but Ezri had never been tortured, had never had to trade mental health for survival. Lost in his thoughts, Miles almost forgot to answer. "Actually," he said, "it was you I wanted to talk to."

The Vorta smiled, not the fake smile he had worn when he spoke for the Dominion but something genuine. "How can I help you Mister O'Brien?"

"Odo's on the station." Internally Miles cursed; he hadn't meant to be so blunt. "He came to visit Kira," he explained. "When he heard you were alive he wanted to see you. I thought someone ought to let you know… make sure you wanted to see him."

"I would be happy to speak with Odo," Weyoun said, smiling again. "Thank you for your consideration in asking me."

Miles awkwardly brushed off the thanks. While Odo was not responsible for the crimes of his species it was just common sense to check that the Vorta would be okay with seeing a Changeling. He'd hated all Cardassians for a long time after the war.

Akio gave a happy shriek and started 'singing' a nursery rhyme.

* * *

Odo stared when he saw Weyoun. There were two very obvious scars running down the right side of his face, other – fainter – ones scattered across pale skin, white on white. He walked with a limp and despite Julian's best efforts was still too thin.

"Odo," he said with a slight nod of acknowledgement and somehow it was that rather than anything else that brought home to the shape shifter just how much damage his species had done. For a Vorta to greet him as an equal rather than bowing and scraping felt strange and that thought made him feel physically ill.

"Odo, are you alright?"

He realized he'd been standing in the small meeting room for half a minute staring and had yet to say a word. "I'm sorry," was the first thing out of his mouth.

Weyoun tilted his head quizzically. "You've never done anything wrong by me," he said.

"My people have."

"You're not them. I heard you're changing things in the Dominion."

"I'm trying to." He gave a short humorless laugh. "Changelings, it turns out, are rather resistant to change."

"Odo… I'd like to help you."

"I appreciate that," the shape shifter said and meant it, "but, with how much the others distrust 'solids', I can't imagine you'd have much luck talking to them."

"I was intended to be a diplomat," Weyoun said with a slightly crooked smile, "but no, I don't really expect they'd care about anything I have to say. I still want to speak to them though, to make them recognize the damage they've done to the Vorta as a species… even if they don't care."

The others would be unaffected, Odo was almost sure of it but he could not deny Weyoun's request. What had been done to his species was horrendous and the former constable knew it was only right the 'Founders' be confronted with that. What actually concerned Odo the most was if the small Vorta was well enough to put himself into such a stressful situation. Could another Vorta not speak to the Changelings instead? No, he realized, they couldn't. The Vorta living within the Dominion would never dare to question their 'gods', while the children rescued four years earlier were terrified of them. One or two of the young adults might be able to manage it but they were doing their best to make new lives for themselves and it seemed unfair to drag them into this. Eris wouldn't be willing, not with a baby to look after and Keevan's mental state was apparently very fragile. So Weyoun really was the only choice.

"Alright," Odo said.

"Thank you."

"I'm going to be on the station for a couple of weeks. After that, provided Doctor Bashir thinks you're fit enough to travel, I'll take you with me to see the Founders."

* * *

The days went passed. The Vorta were released from the infirmary. Odo spent as much time with Kira as he could and tried not to think about how he would eventually have to return to the Gamma Quadrant.

Still, inevitably, his responsibilities pulled him back and eighteen days after reaching on Deep Space Nine found him back on board the small vessel in which he had arrived there.

* * *

"Don't leave."

"I have to," Weyoun replied. Keevan was holding his hand tightly, his expression one of fear.

"They'll lock you up and hurt you."

"Odo won't let them do that."

"It's safe here. Why would you leave?"

"I have to. I'll come back."

* * *

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

* * *

The Great Link was enormous. The Island they stood on was a tiny rock in a seemingly endless ocean. Weyoun was fairly sure that at one time he would have been overcome with awe at the sight. As it was he felt nothing.

Two columns rose from the golden sea, forming themselves into rough humanoid shapes.

"Odo," said one, "why have you brought a defective clone here?"

Odo frowned at the two other Changelings. "I brought him here to address the link," he said, tone defiant.

"We have no interest in what the Vorta has to say," responded the second Changeling.

"It should be destroyed," said the first.

"No!" Odo said sharply. There was an edge of panic to his voice.

"The clone is defective."

"It is of no use."

"You are _not_ going to harm him!" Odo ordered.

They paused for a long moment, heads turning to look at each other. "Very well," said the one to the left.

"You may keep the clone if you wish but send it away from here."

"I will leave," Weyoun said as the two Changelings turned to stare at him with distain, "after I have said my piece. I can't make you listen but I _will_ speak."

"Speak quickly."

Weyoun hesitated. "I know you don't care what I think," he said, "what any Vorta thinks. We do think though. We're not things, even if you grow us in tubes." He paused before adding, "the same goes for the Jemhadarr too. We're people, the same as you and what you did to us was terrible. I hope you realize that someday. That's all I have to say." He turned to Odo. "I'd like to leave now please."

* * *

On returning to DS9 Weyoun was told that Eris and Keevan had been released from the infirmary and assigned to quarters.

Standing in the corridor, he pressed the door chime. "It's me," he said, knowing they would be able to hear him through the bulkhead. A moment later the door slid open. Weyoun smiled without noticing that he did so.

Akio was sitting on the floor, a selection of brightly coloured writing implements scattered around his as he scribbled furiously on a large sheet of paper. He shrieked in delight as his mother scooped him up.

Eris smiled. "Welcome home," she told him.

With a start Weyoun realized that she was right, that though he had never been in these quarters before, he knew they were home.

Keevan entered from another room, walked quickly over and caught Weyoun in a sudden tight hug. On stepping back again he said, quite firmly, "Don't leave again."

He wouldn't and he told the younger Vorta as much. He'd confronted the Founders and that was enough.

Akio had noticed him and was reaching out with little hands in his direction. Eris laughed happily and passed him over.

"Miss'd you!" the young child declared.

"And I missed all of you," Weyoun told him in reply.

"Look! Look!" Akio insisted, pointing enthusiastically in the direction of his drawing. Weyoun crouched down and squinted at the rainbow of scribbles the toddler had produced.

"Zyial gave him the colours," Eris explained. "She thinks he has talent."

Weyoun smiled as Akio squirmed out of his grip and returned to his drawing.

It would be a lie to say that things were okay. He still had nightmares. Keevan still panicked at unexpected sounds. Eris still cried when she thought of her murdered first child. Thousands of Vorta were still slaves to the Founders. So was half of the Gamma quadrant, to some extent. Odo was working to change that though. Weyoun had promised to help him in any way he could. For now though, he was safe and together with Eris, Keevan and Akio in the strange little surrogate family they had become and that was enough. He was happy.


End file.
